JBiw  WlWml 

p 

CO)  IJ-^M 

m(0)€I^IIIi 

m 

mmKEYSEM 


smmusm 


Plate  V 


LouisixVNA  Tanager — Pijranga  ludoviciana 
(Upper  fig-iire,  ni;ilc;  lower,  female) 


PLAINS   AND   FOOTHILLS 

THE  foregoing  chapters  contain  a  recital  of  ob- 
servations made  in  the  neighborhood  of  Colo- 
rado Springs  and  in  trips  on  the  plains  and 
^mong  the  mountains  in  that  latitude.  Two  years  later 
—  that  is,  in  1901  —  the  rambler's  good  angel  again 
smiled  upon  him  and  made  possible  another  tour  among 
the  Colorado  mountains.  This  time  he  made  Denver, 
instead  of  Colorado  Springs,  the  centre  of  operations ; 
nor  did  he  go  alone,  his  companion  being  an  active  boy 
of  fourteen  who  has  a  penchant  for  Butterflies,  while 
that  of  the  writer,  as  need  scarcely  be  said,  is  for  the 
Birds  —  in  our  estimation,  the  two  cardinal  B's  of  the 
English  language.  Imagine  two  inveterate  ramblers, 
then,  with  two  such  enchanting  hobbies,  set  loose  on  the 
Colorado  plains  and  in  the  mountains,  with  the  prospect 
of  a  month  of  uninterrupted  indulgence  in  their  manias  ! 
In  the  account  of  my  first  visit,  most  of  the  species 
met  with  were  described  in  detail  both  as  to  their  habits 
and  personal  appearance.  In  the  present  record  no 
such  minutiae  will  be  necessary  so  far  as  the  same  species 
were  observed,  and  therefore  the  chief  objects  of  the 
12  177 


Donated  to 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 


\^^         0^  r    i 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/birdsrockiesOOkeysrich 


BIRDS   OP^  THE  ROCKIES 


Plate  I 


Williamson's  Sapsuckkr  —  Sphyrapicus  th  ij  void  ens 
(Figure  on  left,  male;  on  right,  female) 


BIRDS  of  the  EOCKIES 

By    LEANDER    S.    KEYSER 

AUTHOR      OF       '^IN       BIRD       LAND,"       ETC. 


With  Eight  Full-page  Plates  (four  in  color) 
by  Louis  Agassiz  Fuertes  ;  Many  Illustra- 
tions in  the  Text  by  Bruce  Horsfall,  and 
Eight  Views  of  Localities  from  Photographs 


WITH  A  COMPLETE  CHECK- 
LIST OF    COLORADO    BIRDS 


CHICAGO     •     A.  C.    McCLURG   AND   CO. 
NINETEEN    HUNDRED    AND     TWO 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 

1902 

Published  September  27,  1902 


TO 
KATHERINE 

AND 

THE     BOYS 

IN    MEMORY    OF    MANY    HAPPY    DAYS 
BOTH    INDOORS    AND    OUT 


CONTENTS 

Page 

Up  and  Down  the  Heights 19 

Introduction  to  Some  Species 31 

Bald  Peaks  and  Green  Vales 47 

Birds  of  the  Arid  Plain 83 

A  Pretty  Hummer 103 

Over  the  Divide  and  Back 117 

A  Rocky  Mountain  Lake 139 

A  Bird  Miscellany 149 

Plains  and  Foothills       .     .     .     , 177 

Rambles  about  Georgetown 197 

Ho !  FOR  Gray's  Peak  ! 223 

Pleasant  Outings 259 

A  Notable  Quartette 285 

Check-List  of  Colorado  Birds 307 

Index 349 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FULL-PAGE    PLATES 

PLATE  FACING    PAGE 

L     Williamson's    Sapsucker  —  Sphyrapicus    ihy- 

roideus Frontispiece 

IL     Green-tailed    Towhee  —  Pipilo   chlorurus  ; 

Spurred  Towhee  —  Pijyilo  megalonyx      .     .  47 

in.     Lazuli  Bunting  —  Cyanospiza  amcena     ...  83 

IV.    Lark  Bunting — Calamospiza  melanocorys  .     .  139 

V.     Louisiana  Tan AGER  —  Pyranga  ludoviciana  .     .  177 

VI.    Townsend's   Solitaire  —  Myiadestes  townsendii  223 

VII.     Ruddy  Duck  —  Erismatura  rubida     ....  259 

VIII.    Brown-capped    Leucosticte  —  Leucosticte  aus- 

tralis 303 

SCENIC  AND  TEXT  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

White-Crowned  Sparrows  ("  Their  grass-lined  nests 

by  the  babbling  mountain  brook  ") 21 

Turtle     Doves    ( "  Darting    across    the    turbulent 

stream") ^^ 

Pipits  ("  Te-cheer  !  te-cheer  !  ") 50 


viii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Pipits  ("  Up  over  the  Bottomless  Pit") 51 

White-Crowned  Sparrow  ("Dear  Whittier")  .  .  55 
Ruby-Crowned  Kinglet  ("The  singer  elevated  his 

crest  feathers ") 65 

Desert  Horned  Larks  ("  They  were  plentiful  in  this 

parched  region  ") 84 

Horned  Lark  ("  It  was  a  dear  little  thing  ")  ...  88 
Coyote  ("  Looking  back  to   see   whether   he  were 

being  pursued  ") 100 

One  of  the  Seven  Lakes 105 

Summit  of  Pike's  Peak Ill 

"Pike's  Peak  in  cloudland  " 114 

Cliff-Swallows  ("  On  the  rugged  face  of  a  cliff")     .  118 

Royal  Gorge 123 

Pine  Siskins 128 

Willow  Thrush 136 

Brewer's  Blackbirds  ("  An  interesting  place  for  bird 

study") 139 

Yellow-Headed  Blackbirds  ("There  the  youngsters 

perched") 142 

"From  their  place  among  the  reeds"  ....  146 
The  Rocky  Mountain  Jay  ("  Seeking  a  covert  in  the 

dense  pineries  when  a  storm  sweeps  down  from 

the  mountains  ") 152 

Rainbow  Falls l65 


ILLUSTRATIONS  ix 

PAGE 

Water-Ousel  {"  Up,  up,  only  a  few  inches  from  the 

dashing  current ") l67 

Water-Ousel  ("Three   hungry  mouths  which  were 

opened  wide  to  receive  the  food  ") 171 

"no  snowstorm  can  discourage  him  "       ....  174 

"The  dark  doorway" 179 

Song  Sparrow  ("  His  songs  are  bubbUng  over  still 

with  melody  and  glee  ") 194 

Clear  Creek  Valley 201 

Western  Robin  ("  Out-pouring  joy  ") 207 

Red-Naped    Sapsuckers  ("  Chiselling    grubs    out    of 

the  bark")        211 

Pigeon  Hawk  ("  Watching  for  quarry  ")       ....  214 

"Solo  SINGING  in  the  thrush  realm" 218 

Gray's  and  Torrey's  Peaks 245 

Panorama  from  Gray's  Peak  —  Northwest  .     .     .  249 

Thistle  Butterfly 252 

Western  White 252 

JuNco  ("  Under  a  roof  of  green  grass  ") 255 

South  Park  from  Kenosha  Hill 265 

Magpie  and  Western  Robins  ("  They  were  hot  on 

his  trail")   . 271 

Violet-green  Swallow  ("  Squatted  on  the  dusty  road 

and  took  a  sun-bath  ") 279 


*'  *  What  bird  is  that  ?    Its  song  is  good,' 

And  eager  eyes 
Go  peering  through  the  dusky  wood 

In  glad  surprise  ; 
Then  late  at  night  when  by  his  fire 

The  traveller  sits. 
Watching  the  flame  grow  brighter,  higher, 

The  sweet  song  flits 
By  snatches  through  his  weary  brain 

To  help  hira  rest. " 

Helen  Hunt  Jacksox  :  The  Way  to  Sing. 


BRIEF    FOREWORD 

WITH  sincere  pleasure  the  author  would  ac- 
knowledge  the  uniform  courtesy  of  editors 
and  publishers  in  permitting  him  to  reprint 
many  of  the  articles  comprised  in  this  volume,  from 
the  various  periodicals  in  which  they  first  appeared. 

He  also  desires  to  express  his  special  indebtedness  to 
Mr.  Charles  E.  Aiken,  of  Colorado  Springs,  Colorado, 
whose  contributions  to  the  ornithology  of  the  West 
have  been  of  great  scientific  value,  and  to  whose  large 
and  varied  collection  of  bird-skins  the  author  had  fre- 
quent access  for  the  purpose  of  settling  difficult  points 
in  bird  identification.  This  obliging  gentleman  also 
spent  many  hours  in  conversation  with  the  writer, 
answering  his  numerous  questions  with  the  intelligence 
of  the  scientifically  trained  observer.  Lastly,  he  kindly 
corrected  some  errors  into  which  the  author  had  inad- 
vertently fallen. 

While  the  area  covered  by  the  writer''s  personal  ob- 
servations may  be  somewhat  restricted,  yet  the  scientific 
bird-list  at  the  close  of  the  volume  widens  the  field  so 
as  to  include  the  entire  avi-fauna  of  Colorado  so  far  as 


xiv  BRIEF    FOREWORD 

known  to  systematic  students.  Besides,  constant  com- 
parison has  been  made  between  the  birds  of  the  West 
and  the  alhed  species  and  genera  of  our  Central  and 
Eastern  States.  For  this  reason  the  range  of  the  vol- 
ume really  extends  from  the  Atlantic  seaboard  to  the 
parks,  valleys,  and  plateaus  beyond  the  Continental 
Divide. 

L.S.  K. 


All  are  needed  by  each  one ; 

Nothing  is  fair  or  good  alone. 

I  thought  the  sparrow's  note  from  heaven. 

Singing  at  dawn  on  the  alder  bough  ; 

I  brought  him  home,  in  his  nest,  at  even  ; 

He  sings  the  song,  but  it  cheers  not  now. 

For  I  did  not  bring  home  the  river  and  sky  ;  — 

He  sang  to  my  ear,  —  they  sang  to  my  eye. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  :  Each  and  AIL 

Not  from  his  fellows  only  man  may  learn 

Rights  to  compare  and  duties  to  discern  ; 

All  creatures  and  all  objects,  in  degree, 

Are  friends  and  patrons  of  humanity. 

There  are  to  whom  the  garden,  grove,  and  field 

Perpetual  lessons  of  forbearance  yield  ; 

Who  would  not  Hghtly  violate  the  grace 

The  lowliest  flower  possesses  in  its  place  ; 

Nor  shorten  the  sweet  life,  too  fugitive, 

Which  nothing  less  than  infinite  Power  could  give. 

William  Wordsworth  :  Humanity. 

Sounds  drop  in  visiting  from  everj-^here  — 
The  bluebird's  and  the  robin's  trill  are  there. 
Their  sweet  liquidity  diluted  some 
By  dewy  orchard  spaces  they  have  come. 

James  Whitcomb  Riley  :  A  Child  World. 


Even  in  the  city,  I 
Am  ever  conscious  of  the  sky  ; 
A  portion  of  its  frame  no  less 
Than  in  the  open  wilderness. 
The  stars  are  in  my  heart  by  night, 
I  sing  beneath  the  opening  light. 
As  envious  of  the  bird  ;  I  live 
Upon  the  payment,  yet  I  give 
My  soul  to  every  growing  tree 
That  in  the  narrow  ways  I  see. 
My  heart  is  in  the  blade  of  grass 
Within  the  courtyard  where  I  pass  ; 
And  the  small,  half-discovered  cloud 
Compels  me  till  I  cry  aloud. 
I  am  the  wind  that  beats  the  walls 
And  wander  trembling  till  it  falls  ; 
The  snow,  the  summer  rain  am  I, 
In  close  communion  with  the  sky. 


Philip  Henry  Savage. 


UP  AND   DOWN  THE   HEIGHTS 


Even  in  the  city,  I 
Am  ever  conscious  of  the  sky  ; 
A  portion  of  its  frame  no  less 
Than  in  the  open  wilderness. 
The  stars  are  in  my  heart  by  night, 
I  sing  beneath  the  opening  light. 
As  envious  of  the  bird  ;  1  live 
Upon  the  payment,  yet  I  give 
My  soul  to  every  growing  tree 
That  in  the  narrow  ways  I  see. 
My  heart  is  in  the  blade  of  grass 
Within  the  courtyard  where  I  pass  ; 
And  the  small,  half-discovered  cloud 
Compels  me  till  I  cry  aloud. 
I  am  the  wind  that  beats  the  walls 
And  wander  trembling  till  it  falls  ; 
The  snow,  the  summer  rain  am  I, 
In  close  communion  with  the  sky. 


Philip  Henry  Savage. 


UP  AND  DOWN  THE   HEIGHTS 


BIRDS     OF     THE     ROCKIES 


UP  AND  DOWN  THE   HEIGHTS 

TO  study  the  birds  from  the  level  plains  to  the 
crests  of  the  peaks  swimming  in  cloudland; 
to  note  the  species  that  are  peculiar  to  the 
various  altitudes,  as  well  as  those  that  range  from 
the  lower  areas  to  the  alpine  heights ;  to  observe  the 
behavior  of  all  the  birds  encountered  in  the  West, 
and  compare  their  habits,  songs,  and  general  deport- 
ment with  those  of  correlated  species  and  genera  in 
the  East;  to  learn  as  much  as  possible  about  the 
migratory  movements  up  and  down  the  mountains  as 
the  seasons  wax  and  wane,  —  surely  that  would  be  an 
inspiring  prospect  to  any  student  of  the  feathered 
fraternity.  For  many  years  one  of  the  writer's  most 
cherished  desires  has  been  to  investigate  the  bird 
life  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  In  the  spring  of  1899, 
and  again  in  1901,  fortune  smiled  upon  him  in  the 
most  genial  way,  and  —  in  a  mental  state  akin  to 
rapture,  it  must  be  confessed  —  he  found  himself 
rambling  over  the  plains  and  mesas  and  through  the 
deep  canons,  and  clambering  up  the  dizzy  heights, 
in    search    of  winged   rarities. 

19 


20  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

In  this  chapter  attention  will  be  called  to  a  few 
general  facts  relative  to  bird  life  in  the  Rockies,  leav- 
ing the  details  for  subsequent  recital.  As  might  be 
expected,  the  towering  elevations  influence  the  move- 
ments of  the  feathered  tenants  of  the  district.  There 
is  here  what  might  be  called  a  vertical  migration, 
aside  from  the  usual  pilgrimages  north  and  south 
which  are  known  to  the  more  level  portions  of  North 
America.  The  migratory  journeys  up  and  down  the 
mountains  occur  with  a  regularity  that  amounts  to  a 
system  ;  yet  so  far  as  regards  these  movements  each 
species  must  be  studied  for  itself,  each  having  manners 
that  are  all  its  own. 

In  regions  of  a  comparatively  low  altitude  many 
birds,  as  is  well  known,  hie  to  the  far  North  to  find 
the  proper  climatic  conditions  in  which  to  rear  their 
broods  and  spend  their  summer  vacation,  some  of  them 
going  to  the  subarctic  provinces  and  others  beyond. 
How  different  among  the  sublime  heights  of  the 
Rockies !  Here  they  are  required  to  make  a  journey 
of  only  a  few  miles,  say  from  five  to  one  hundred  or 
slightly  more,  according  to  the  locality  selected,  up  the 
defiles  and  canons  or  over  the  ridges,  to  find  the  con- 
ditions as  to  temperature,  food,  nesting  sites,  etc.,  that 
are  precisely  to  their  taste.  The  wind  blowing  down 
to  their  haunts  from  the  snowy  summits  carries  on  its 
wings  the  same  keenness   and  invigoration   that  they 


UP   AND   DOWN   THE   HEIGHTS 


21 


would  find  if  they  went  to  British  America,  where  the 
breezes  would  descend  from  the  regions  of  snow  and 
ice  beyond  the  Arctic  Circle. 

It  will  add  a  little  spice  of  detail  if  we  take  a 
concrete  case.  There  is  the  handsome  and  lyrical 
white-crowned  sparrow;  in  my  native  State,  Ohio, 
this  bird  is  only  a  migrant,  passing  for  the  summer 
far  up  into  Canada  to  court  his  mate  and  rear  his 
family.  Now  remember  that  Col- 
orado is  in  the  same  latitude  as 
Ohio  ;  but  the  Buckeye  State, 
famous  as  it  is  for  furnishing 
presidents,  has  no  lofty  eleva- 
tions, and  therefore  no 
white-crowns  as  summer 
residents.  However, 
Colorado  may  claim 
this  distinction,  as  well 
as  that  of  producing 
gold  and  silver,  and 
furnishing  some  of  the 
sublimest  scenery  on 
the  earth ;  for  on 
the  side  of  Pike's 
Peak,  in  a  green, 
well-watered  valley 
just  below  timber-line, 


22  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

I  was  almost  thrown  into  transports  at  finding  the 
white-crowns,  listening  to  their  rhythmic  choruses,  and 
discovering  their  grass-lined  nests  by  the  side  of  the 
babbling  mountain  brook.  Altitude  accomplishes  for 
these  birds  what  latitude  does  for  their  brothers  and 
sisters  of  eastern  North  America. 

There  is  almost  endless  variety  in  the  avi-faunal  life  of 
the  Rockies.  Some  species  breed  far  above  timber-line 
in  the  thickets  that  invade  the  open  valleys,  or  clamber 
far  up  the  steep  mountain  sides.  Others  ascend  still 
higher,  building  their  nests  on  the  bald  summits  of  the 
loftiest  peaks  at  an  altitude  of  fourteen  thousand  feet  and 
more,  living  all  summer  long  in  an  atmosphere  that  is  as 
rare  as  it  is  refreshing  and  pure.  Among  these  alpine 
dwellers  may  be  mentioned  the  brown-capped  leuco- 
stictes,  which  shall  be  accorded  the  attention  they 
deserve  in  another  chapter.  Then,  there  are  species 
which  have  representatives  both  on  the  plains  and 
far  up  in  the  mountain  parks  and  valleys,  such  as  the 
western  robin,  the  western  meadow-lark,  and  the  moun- 
tain bluebird. 

In  this  wonderful  country  there  is  to  be  observed  every 
style  of  migratory  habit.  A  twofold  migrating  current 
must  be  noticed.  While  there  is  a  movement  up  and 
down  the  mountain  heights,  there  is  at  the  same  time  a 
movement  north  and  south,  making  the  migratory  system 
a  perfect  network  of  lines  of  travel.     Some  species  sum- 


UP   AND   DOWN   THE   HEIGHTS  23 

mer  in  the  mountains  and  winter  on  the  plains  ;  others 
summer  in  the  mountains  pass  down  to  the  plains  in  the 
autumn,  then  wing  their  way  farther  south  into  New 
Mexico,  Mexico,  Central  America,  and  even  South 
America,  where  they  spend  the  winter,  reversing  this 
order  on  their  return  to  the  north  in  the  spring ;  others 
simply  pass  through  this  region  in  their  vernal  and 
autumnal  pilgrimages,  stopping  for  a  short  time,  but 
spending  neither  the  summer  nor  the  winter  in  this 
latitude  ;  still  others  come  down  from  the  remote  north 
on  the  approach  of  autumn,  and  winter  in  this  State, 
either  on  the  plains  or  in  the  sheltering  ravines  and 
forests  of  the  mountains,  and  then  return  to  the  north 
in  the  spring ;  and,  lastly,  there  are  species  that  remain 
here  all  the  year  round,  some  of  them  in  the  moun- 
tains, others  on  the  plains,  and  others  again  in  both 
localities.  A  number  of  hardy  birds  —  genuine  feath- 
ered Norsemen  —  brave  the  arctic  winters  of  the  upper 
mountain  regions,  fairly  revelling  in  the  swirling  snow- 
storms, and  it  must  be  a  terrific  gale  indeed  that  will 
drive  them  down  from  their  favorite  habitats  toward 
the  plains. 

Does  the  avi-fauna  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  district 
differ  widely  from  that  of  the  Eastern  States  ?  The 
reply  must  be  made  in  the  affirmative.  Therefore  the 
first  work  of  the  bird-student  from  the  East  will  be  that 
of  a   tyro  —  the    identification    of  species.       For   this 


24,  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

purpose  he  must  have  frequent  recourse  to  the  useful 
manuals  of  Coues  and  Ridgway,  and  to  the  invaluable 
brochure  of  Professor  Wells  W.  Cooke  on  the  "Birds 
of  Colorado.""  In  passing,  it  may  be  said  that  the  last- 
named  gentleman  might  almost  be  called  the  Colorado 
Audubon  or  Wilson. 

In  studying  the  birds  of  the  West,  one  should  note 
that  there  are  western  subspecies  and  varieties,  which 
differ  in  some  respects,  though  not  materially,  from  their 
eastern  cousins;  for  instance,  the  western  robin,  the 
western  chipping  sparrow,  the  western  lark  sparrow,  and 
the  western  nighthawk.  Besides,  intermediate  forms 
are  to  be  met  with  and  classified,  the  eastern  types  shad- 
ing off  in  a  very  interesting  process  into  the  western.  It 
would  be  impossible  for  any  one  but  a  systematist  with 
the  birds  in  hand  to  determine  where  the  intermediate 
forms  become  either  typical  easterners  or  typical 
westerners. 

Most  interesting  of  all  to  the  rambler  on  avian  lore 
intent  is  the  fact  that  there  are  many  species  and  genera 
that  are  peculiar  to  the  West,  and  therefore  new  to  him, 
keeping  him  constantly  on  the  qui  vive.  In  Colorado 
you  will  look  in  vain  for  the  common  blue  jay,  so  abun- 
dant in  all  parts  of  the  East ;  but  you  will  be  more  than 
compensated  by  the  presence  of  seven  other  species 
of  the  jay  household.  The  woodpeckers  of  the  West 
(with  one  exception)  are   different    from  those  of  the 


UP   AND   DOWN   THE   HEIGHTS  25 

East,  and  so  are  the  flycatchers,  the  grosbeaks,  the 
orioles,  the  tanagers,  the  humming-birds,  and  many  of 
the  sparrows.  Instead  of  the  purple  and  bronzed  grackles 
(the  latter  are  sometimes  seen  on  the  plains  of  Colorado, 
but  are  not  common),  the  Rockies  boast  of  Brewer's 
blackbird,  whose  habits  are  not  as  prosaic  as  his  name 
would  indicate.  "  Jim  Crow  "  shuns  the  mountains  for 
reasons  satisfactory  to  himself;  not  so  the  magpie,  the 
raven,  and  that  mischief-maker,  Clark's  nutcracker. 
All  of  which  keeps  the  bird-lover  from  the  East  in  an 
ecstasy  of  surprises  until  he  has  become  accustomed  to 
his  changed  environment. 

One  cannot  help  falling  into  the  speculative  mood  in 
view  of  the  sharp  contrasts  between  the  birds  of  the 
East  and  those  of  the  West.  Why  does  the  hardy  and 
almost  ubiquitous  blue  jay  studiously  avoid  the  western 
plains  and  mountains?  Why  do  not  the  magpie  and 
the  long-crested  jay  come  east?  What  is  there  that 
prevents  the  indigo-bird  from  taking  up  residence  in 
Colorado,  where  his  pretty  western  cousin,  the  lazuli 
finch,  finds  himself  so  much  at  home?  Why  is  the 
yellow-shafted  flicker  of  the  East  replaced  in  the  West 
by  the  red-shafted  flicker  ?  These  questions  are  more 
easily  asked  than  answered.  From  the  writer's  present 
home  in  eastern  Kansas  it  is  only  six  hundred  miles 
to  the  foot  of  the  Rockies ;  yet  the  avi-fauna  of 
eastern  Kansas  is  much  more  like  that  of  the  Eastern 


26  BIRDS  OF  THE   ROCKIES 

and  New  England  States  than  that  of  the  Colorado 
region. 

Perhaps  the  reason  is  largely,  if  not  chiefly,  physiolog- 
ical. Evidently  there  are  birds  that  flourish  best  in  a 
rare,  dry  atmosphere,  while  others  naturally  thrive  in  an 
atmosphere  that  is  denser  and  more  humid.  The  same 
is  true  of  people.  Many  persons  find  the  climate  of 
Colorado  especially  adapted  to  their  needs  ;  indeed,  to 
certain  classes  of  invalids  it  is  a  veritable  sanitarium. 
Others  soon  learn  that  it  is  detrimental  to  their  health. 
Mayhap  the  same  laws  obtain  in  the  bird  realm. 

The  altitude  of  my  home  is  eight  hundred  and  eighty 
feet  above  sea-level ;  that  of  Denver,  Colorado,  six 
thousand  one  hundred  and  sixty,  making  a  difference  of 
over  five  thousand  feet,  which  may  account  for  the 
absence  of  many  eastern  avian  forms  in  the  more  elevated 
districts.  Some  day  the  dissector  of  birds  may  find  a 
real  diff*erence  in  the  physiological  structure  of  the 
eastern  and  western  meadow-larks.  If  so,  it  is  to  be 
hoped  he  will  at  once  publish  his  discoveries  for  the 
satisfaction  of  all  lovers  of  birds. 

If  one  had  time  and  opportunity,  some  intensely  in- 
teresting experiments  might  be  tried.  Suppose  an 
eastern  blue  jay  should  be  carried  to  the  top  of  Pike's 
Peak,  or  Gray's,  and  then  set  free,  how  would  he  fare  ? 
Would  the  muscles  and  tendons  of  his  wings  have  suffi- 
cient strength  to  bear  him  up  in  the  rarefied  atmos- 


UP  AND  DOWN  THE  HEIGHTS  27 

phere  ?  One  may  easily  imagine  that  he  would  go 
wabbling  helplessly  over  the  granite  boulders,  unable 
to  lift  himself  more  than  a  few  feet  in  the  air,  while  the 
pipit  and  the  leucosticte,  inured  to  the  heights,  would 
mount  up  to  the  sky  and  shout  "  Ha  !  ha  ! '''  in  good- 
natured  raillery  at  the  blue  tenderfoot.  And  would  the 
feathered  visitor  feel  a  constriction  in  his  chest  and  be 
compelled  to  gasp  for  breath,  as  the  human  tourists 
invariably  do  ?  It  is  even  doubtful  whether  any  eastern 
bird  would  be  able  to  survive  the  changed  meteorologi- 
cal conditions.  Nature  having  designed  him  for  a  differ- 
ent environment. 


INTRODUCTION  TO   SOME   SPECIES 


INTRODUCTION  TO     SOME   SPECIES 

IT  was  night  when  I  found  lodgings  in  the  pic- 
turesque village  of  Manitou,  nestling  at  the  foot 
of  the  lower  mountains  that  form  the  portico 
to  Pike''s  Peak.  Early  the  next  morning  I  was  out  for 
a  stroll  along  the  bush-fringed  mountain  brook  which 
had  babbled  me  a  serenade  all  night.  To  my  delight, 
the  place  was  rife  with  birds,  the  first  to  greet  me  being 
robins,  catbirds,  summer  warblers,  and  warbling  vireos, 
all  of  which,  being  well  known  in  the  East,  need  no 
description,  but  are  mentioned  here  only  to  show  the 
reader  that  some  avian  species  are  common  to  both  the 
East  and  the  West. 

But  let  me  pause  to  pay  a  little  tribute  to  the  brave 
robin  redbreast.  Of  course,  here  he  is  called  the 
"western  robin.""  His  distribution  is  an  interesting 
scientific  fact.  I  found  him  everywhere  —  on  the  arid 
plains  and  mesas,  in  the  solemn  pines  of  the  deep 
gulches  and  passes,  and  among  the  scraggy  trees  border- 
ing on  timber-line,  over  ten  thousand  feet  above  sea-level. 
In  Colorado  the  robins  are  designated  as  "  western,*" 
forms  by  the  system-makers,  but,  even  though  called  by 

31 


32  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

a  modified  title,  they  deport  themselves,  build  their 
nests,  and  sing  their  "cheerily,  cheerily,  cheer  up,"''' 
just  as  do  their  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  land  toward 
the  rising  sun.  If  there  is  any  difference,  their  songs 
are  not  so  loud  and  ringing,  and  their  breasts  not  quite 
so  ruddy  as  are  those  of  the  eastern  types.  Perhaps  the 
incessant  sunshine  of  Colorado  bleaches  out  the  tints 
somewhat. 

But  in  my  ante-breakfast  stroll  at  Manitou  I  soon 
stumbled  upon  feathered  strangers.  What  was  this 
little  square-shouldered  bird  that  kept  uttering  a  shrill 
scream,  which  he  seemed  to  mistake  for  a  song  ?  It  was 
the  western  wood-pewee.  Instead  of  piping  the  sweet, 
pensive  "  Pe-e-e-o-we-e-e-e ''  of  the  woodland  bird  of  the 
Eastern  States,  this  western  swain  persists  in  ringing 
the  changes  hour  by  hour  upon  that  piercing  scream, 
which  sounds  more  like  a  cry  of  anguish  than  a  song. 
At  Buena  Vista,  where  these  birds  are  superabundant, 
their  morning  concerts  were  positively  painful.  One 
thing  must  be  said,  however,  in  defence  of  the  western 
wood-pewee  —  he  means  well. 

Another  acquaintance  of  my  morning  saunter  was  the 
debonair  Arkansas  goldfinch,  which  has  received  its  bun- 
glesome  name,  not  from  the  State  of  Arkansas,  but  from 
the  Arkansas  River,  dashing  down  from  the  mountains 
and  flowing  eastwardly  through  the  southern  part  of 
Colorado.     Most  nattily  this  little  bird  wears  his  black 


INTRODUCTION   TO    SOME   SPECIES  33 

cap,  his  olive-green  frock,  and  his  bright  yellow  vest. 
You  will  see  at  once  that  he  dresses  differently  from  the 
American  goldfinch,  so  well  known  in  the  East,  and,  for 
that  matter,  just  as  well  known  on  the  plains  of  Colo- 
rado, where  both  species  dwell  in  harmony.  There  are 
some  white  markings  on  ihe  wings  of  Spinus  psaltria 
that  give  them  a  gauze-like  appearance  when  they  are 
rapidly  fluttered. 

His  song  and  some  of  his  calls  bear  a  close  resem- 
blance to  those  of  the  common  goldfinch,  but  he  is 
by  no  means  a  mere  duplicate  of  that  bird;  he  has 
an  individuality  of  his  own.  While  his  flight  is  un- 
dulatory,  the  waviness  is  not  so  deeply  and  distinctly 
marked;  nor  does  he  sing  a  cheery  cradle-song  while 
swinging  through  the  ether,  although  he  often  utters  a 
series  of  unmusical  chirps.  One  of  the  most  pleasingly 
pensive  sounds  heard  in  my  western  rambles  was  the 
little  coaxing  call  of  this  bird,  whistled  mostly  by  the 
female,  I  think.  No  doubt  it  is  the  tender  love  talk 
of  a  young  wife  or  mother,  which  may  account  for  its 
surpassing  sweetness. 

Every  lover  of  feathered  kind  is  interested  in  what 
may  be  called  comparative  ornithology,  and  therefore  I 
wish  to  speak  of  another  western  form  and  its  eastern 
prototype  —  Bullock's  oriole,  which  in  Colorado  takes 
the  place  of  the  Baltimore  oriole  known  east  of  the 
plains  all  the  way  to  the  Atlantic  coast.     However, 


34  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

Bullock's  is  not  merely  a  variety  or  sub-species,  but  a 
well-defined  species  of  the  oriole  family,  his  scientific 
title  being  Icterus  bullocki. 

Like  our  familiar  Lord  Baltimore,  he  bravely  bears 
black  and  orange;  but  in  bullocki  the  latter  color 
invades  the  sides  of  the  neck,  head,  and  forehead,  leav- 
ing only  a  small  black  bow  for  the  throat  and  a  narrow 
black  stripe  running  back  over  the  crown  and  down  the 
back  of  the  neck ;  whereas  in  Icterus  galhtda  the  entire 
head  and  neck  are  black.  Brilliant  as  Bullock's  oriole 
is,  he  does  not  seem  to  be  anxious  to  display  his 
fineries,  for  he  usually  makes  it  a  point  to  keep  him- 
self ensconced  behind  a  clump  of  foliage,  so  that,  while 
you  may  hear  a  desultory  piping  in  the  trees,  appar- 
ently inviting  your  confidence,  it  will  be  a  long  time 
before  you  can  get  more  than  a  provoking  glimpse  of 
the  jolly  piper  himself.  "  My  gorgeous  apparel  was  not 
made  for  parade,''  seems  to  be  his  modest  disclaimer. 

He  is  quite  a  vocalist.  Here  is  a  quotation  from  my 
lead-pencil,  dashes  and  all :  "  Bullock's  oriole  —  fine 
singer  —  voice  stronger  than  orchard  oriole's  —  song 
not  quite  so  well  articulated  or  so  elaborate,  but 
louder  and  more  resonant  —  better  singer  than  the 
Baltimore."  It  might  be  added  that  Bullock's,  like 
the  orchard,  but  unlike  the  Baltimore,  pipes  a  real 
tune,  with  something  of  a  theme  running  through  its 
intermittent   outbursts.     The  plumage   of  the   young 


INTRODUCTION   TO   SOME   SPECIES  35 

bird  undergoes  some  curious  changes,  and  what  I  took 

to  be  the  year-old  males  seemed  to  be  the  most  spirited 

musicians. 

Maurice  Thompson's  tribute  to  the  Baltimore  oriole 

will  apply  to  that  bird"'s  wesifern  kinsman.     He  calls 

him  :  — 

"Athlete  of  the  air  — 
Of  fire  and  song  a  glowing  core ; " 

and  then  adds,  with  tropical  fervor: 

•*  A  hot  flambeau  on  either  wing 
Rimples  as  you  pass  me  by  ; 
'T  is  seeing  flame  to  hear  you  sing, 
T  is  hearing  song  to  see  you  fly. 


**  When  flowery  hints  foresay  the  berry. 
On  spray  of  haw  and  tuft  of  brier. 
Then,  wandering  incendiary. 
You  set  the  maple  swamps  afire  ! " 

Many  nests  of  Bullock's  oriole  rewarded  my  slight 
search.  They  are  larger  and  less  compactly  woven 
than  the  Baltimore's,  and  have  a  woolly  appearance 
exteriorly,  as  if  the  down  of  the  Cottonwood  trees  had 
been  wrought  into  the  fabric.  Out  on  the  plains  I 
counted  four  dangling  nests,  old  and  new,  on  one 
small  limb ;  but  that,  of  course,  was  unusual,  there 
being  only  one  small  clump  of  trees  within  a  radius  of 
many  miles. 


36  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

In  the  vicinity  of  Manitou  many  trips  were  taken 
by  the  zealous  pedestrian.  Some  of  the  dry,  steep 
sides  of  the  first  range  of  mountains  were  hard  dimb- 
ing,  but  it  was  necessary  to  make  the  effort  in  order  to 
discover  their  avian  resources.  One  of  the  first  birds 
met  with  on  these  unpromising  acclivities  was  the 
spurred  towhee  of  the  Rockies.  In  his  attire  he 
closely  resembles  the  towhee,  or  "chewink,"  of  the 
East,  but  has  as  an  extra  ornament  a  beautiful 
sprinkling  of  white  on  his  back  and  wings,  which 
makes  him  look  as  if  he  had  thrown  a  gauzy  mantle 
of  silver  over  his  shoulders. 

But  his  song  is  different  from  our  eastern  towhee's. 
My  notes  say  that  it  is  "  a  cross  between  the  song  of 
the  chewink  and  that  of  dickcissel,"  and  I  shall 
stand  by  that  assertion  until  I  find  good  reason  to 
disown  it  —  should  that  time  ever  come.  The  opening 
syllabication  is  like  dickcissePs;  then  follows  a  trill 
of  no  specially  definable  character.  There  are  times 
when  he  sings  with  more  than  his  wonted  force,  and  it 
is  then  that  his  tune  bears  the  strongest  likeness  to  the 
eastern  towhee's.  But  his  alarm -call !  It  is  no  "che- 
wink "  at  all,  but  almost  as  close  a  reproduction  of  a 
cafs  mew  as  is  the  catbird's  well-known  call.  Such 
crosses  and  anomalies  does  this  country  produce! 

On  the  arid  mountain  sides  among  the  stunted 
bushes,    cactus   plants,    sand,  and    rocks,  this    quaint 


INTRODUCTION   TO   SOME   SPECIES         37 

bird  makes  his  home,  coming  down  into  the  valleys 
to  drink  at  the  tinkling  brooks  and  trill  his  rounde- 
lays. Many,  many  times,  as  I  was  following  a  deep 
fissure  in  the  mountains,  his  ditty  came  dripping  down 
to  me  from  some  spot  far  up  the  steep  mountain  side  — 
a  little  cascade  of  song  mingling  with  the  cascades  of 
the  brooks.  The  nests  are  usually  placed  under  a  bush 
on  the  sides  of  the  mesas  and  mountains. 

And  would  you  believe  it  ?  Colorado  furnishes  an- 
other towhee,  though  why  he  should  have  been  put 
into  the  Pipilo  group  by  the  ornithologists  is  more  than 
I  can  tell  at  this  moment.  He  has  no  analogue  in  the 
East.  True,  he  is  a  bird  of  the  bushes,  running  some- 
times like  a  little  deer  from  one  clump  to  another ;  but 
if  you  should  see  him  mount  a  boulder  or  a  bush,  and 
hear  him  sing  his  rich,  theme-like,  finely  modulated  song, 
you  would  aver  that  he  is  closer  kin  to  the  thrushes  or 
thrashers  than  to  the  towhees.  There  is  not  the  re- 
motest suggestion  of  the  towhee  minstrelsy  in  his  pro- 
longed and  well-articulated  melody.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  find  a  finer  lyrist  among  the  mountains. 

But,  hold  !  I  have  neglected  to  introduce  this  pretty 
Mozart  of  the  West.  He  is  known  by  an  offensive  and 
inapt  title  —  the  green-tailed  towhee.  Much  more  ap- 
propriately might  he  be  called  the  chestnut-crowned 
towhee,  for  his  cope  is  rich  chestnut,  and  the  crest  is 
often  held  erect,  making  him  look  quite  cavalier-like. 


38  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

It  is  the  most  conspicuous  part  of  his  toilet.  His  upper 
parts  are  grayish-green,  becoming  slightly  deeper  green 
on  the  tail,  from  which  fact  he  derives  his  common 
name.  His  white  throat  and  chin  are  a  further  diag- 
nostic mark.  The  bright  yellow  of  the  edge  of  the 
wings,  under  coverts  and  axillaries  is  seldom  seen,  on 
account  of  the  extreme  wariness  of  the  bird. 

In  most  of  the  dry  and  bushy  places  I  found  him  at 
my  elbow  —  or,  rather,  some  distance  away,  but  in  evi- 
dence by  his  mellifluous  song.  Let  me  enumerate  the 
localities  in  which  I  found  my  little  favorite:  Forty 
miles  out  on  the  plain  among  some  bushes  of  a  shallow 
dip ;  among  the  foothills  about  Colorado  Springs  and 
Manitou ;  on  many  of  the  open  bushy  slopes  along  the 
cog-road  leading  to  Pike's  Peak,  but  never  in  the  dark 
ravines  or  thick  timber;  among  the  bushes  just  below 
timber-line  on  the  southern  acclivity  of  the  peak  ;  every- 
where around  the  village  of  Buena  Vista ;  about  four 
miles  below  Leadville ;  and,  lastly,  beyond  the  range  at 
Red  Cliff' and  Glenwood.i 

The  song,  besides  its  melodious  quality,  is  full  of  ex- 
pression. In  this  respect  it  excels  the  liquid  chansons 
of  the  mountain  hermit  thrush,  which  is  justly  cele- 
brated as  a  minstrel,  but  which  does  not  rehearse  a  well- 
defined   theme.     The   towhee's   song   is   sprightly  and 

1  This  list  was  greatly  enlarged  in  my  second  trip  to  Colorado 
in  1901. 


INTRODUCTION  TO   SOME  SPECIES         39 

cheerful,  wild  and  free,  has  the  swing  of  all  outdoors, 
and  is  not  pitched  to  a  minor  key.  It  gives  you 
the  impression  that  a  bird  which  sings  so  blithe- 
some a  strain  must  surely  be  happy  in  his  domestic 
relations. 

Among  the  Rockies  the  black-headed  grosbeak  is 
much  in  evidence,  and  so  is  his  cheerful,  good-tempered 
song,  which  is  an  exact  counterpart  of  the  song  of  the 
rose-breasted  grosbeak,  his  eastern  kinsman.  Neither  the 
rose-breast  nor  the  cardinal  is  to  be  found  in  Colorado, 
but  they  are  replaced  by  the  black-headed  and  blue 
grosbeaks,  the  former  dwelling  among  the  lower  moun- 
tains, the  latter  occurring  along  the  streams  of  the  plains. 
Master  black-head  and  his  mate  are  partial  to  the  scrub 
oaks  for  nesting  sites.  I  found  one  nest  with  four  callow 
bantlings  in  it,  but,  much  to  my  grief  and  anger,  at 
my  next  call  it  had  been  robbed  of  its  precious  trea- 
sures. A  few  days  later,  not  far  from  the  same  place, 
a  female  was  building  a  nest,  and  I  am  disposed  to 
believe  that  she  was  the  mother  whose  children  had 
been  kidnapped. 

Instead  of  the  scarlet  and  summer  tanagers,  the 
Rocky  Mountain  region  is  honored  with  that  beautiful 
feathered  gentleman,  the  Louisiana  tanager,  most  of 
whose  plumage  is  rich,  glossy  yellow,  relieved  by  black 
on  the  wings,  back,  and  tail ;  while  his  most  conspicuous 
decoration  is  the  scarlet  or  crimson  tinting  of  his  head 


40  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

and  throat,  shading  off  into  the  yellow  of  the  breast. 
These  colors  form  a  picturesque  combination,  especially 
if  set  against  a  background  of  green.  The  crimson 
staining  gives  him  the  appearance  of  having  washed  his 
face  in  some  bright-red  pigment,  and  like  an  awkward 
child,  blotched  his  bosom  with  it  in  the  absence  of  a 
napkin. 

So  far  as  I  could  analyze  it,  there  is  no  appreciable 
difference  between  his  lyrical  performances  and  those  of 
the  scarlet  tanager,  both  being  a  kind  of  lazy,  drawling 
song,  that  is  slightly  better  than  no  bird  music  at  all. 
One  nest  was  found  without  difficulty.  It  was  placed 
on  one  of  the  lower  branches  of  a  pine  tree  by  the  road- 
side at  the  entrance  to  Engleman's  Canon.  As  a  rule, 
the  males  are  not  excessively  shy,  as  so  many  of  the 
Rocky  Mountain  birds  are.  The  tanagers  were  seen  far 
up  in  the  mountains,  as  well  as  among  the  foothills,  and 
also  at  Red  Cliff'  and  Glenwood  on  the  western  side  of 
the  Divide. 

A  unique  character  in  feathers,  one  that  is  peculiar 
to  the  West,  is  the  magpie,  who  would  attract  notice 
wherever  he  should  deign  to  live,  being  a  sort  of  grand 
sachem  of  the  outdoor  aviary.  In  some  respects  the 
magpies  are  striking  birds.  In  flight  they  present  a 
peculiar  appearance  ;  in  fact,  they  closely  resemble  boys' 
kites  with  their  long,  slender  tails  trailing  in  the 
breeze.     I  could   not  avoid  the  impression  that   their 


INTRODUCTION   TO   SOME   SPECIES         41 

tails  were  superfluous  appendages,  but  no  doubt  they 
serve  the  birds  a  useful  purpose  as  rudders  and  balanc- 
ing-poles. The  magpie  presents  a  handsome  picture  as 
he  swings  through  the  air,  the  iridescent  black  gleaming 
in  the  sun,  beautifully  set  off  with  snowy-white  trim- 
mings on  both  the  upper  and  lower  surfaces  of  the 
wings.  On  the  perch  or  on  the  wing  he  is  an  ornament 
to  any  landscape.  As  to  his  voice  —  well,  he  is  a 
genuine  squawker.  There  is  not,  so  far  as  I  have  ob- 
served, a  musical  cord  in  his  larynx,^  and  I  am  sure  he 
does  not  profess  to  be  a  musical  genius,  so  that  my 
criticism  will  do  him  no  injury.  All  the  use  he  has  for 
his  voice  seems  to  be  to  call  his  fellows  to  a  new-found 
banquet,  or  give  warning  of  the  approach  of  an  inter- 
loper upon  his  chosen  preserves.  His  cry,  if  you  climb 
up  to  his  nest,  is  quite  pitifiil,  proving  that  he  has  real 
love  for  his  offspring.  Perhaps  the  magpies  have  won 
their  chief  distinction  as  architects.  Their  nests  are 
really   remarkable    structures,   sometimes    as    large   as 


1  In  this  volume  the  author  has  made  use  of  the  terminology 
usually  employed  in  describing  bird  music.  Hence  such  words  as 
**  song,"  "  chant,"  "  vocal  cords,"  etc.,  are  of  frequent  occurrence. 
In  reality  the  writer's  personal  view  is  that  the  birds  are  whistlers, 
pipers,  fluters,  and  not  vocalists,  none  of  the  sounds  they  produce 
being  real  voice  tones.  The  reader  who  may  desire  to  go  into  this 
matter  somewhat  technically  is  referred  to  Maurice  Thompson's 
chapter  entitled  *' The  Anatomy  of  Bird-Song"  in  his  "Sylvan 
Secrets,"  and  the  author's  article,  *'  Are  Birds  Singers  or  Whis- 
tlers?" in  *'Our  Animal  Friends"  for  June,  1901. 


42  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

fair-sized  tubs,  the  framework  composed  of  good-sized 
sticks,  skilfully  plaited  together,  and  the  cup  lined  with 
grass  and  other  soft  material,  making  a  cosej  nursery  for 
the  infantile  magpies.  Then  the  nest  proper  is  roofed 
over,  and  has  an  entrance  to  the  apartment  on  either 
side.  When  you  examine  the  structure  closely,  you  find 
that  it  fairly  bristles  with  dry  twigs  and  sticks,  and  it 
is  surprising  how  large  some  of  the  branches  are  that 
are  braided  into  the  domicile.  All  but  one  of  the  many 
nests  I  found  were  deserted,  for  my  visit  was  made  in 
June,  and  the  birds,  as  a  rule,  breed  earlier  than  that 
month.  Some  were  placed  in  bushes,  some  in  willow 
and  Cottonwood  trees,  and  others  in  pines ;  and  the 
birds  themselves  were  almost  ubiquitous,  being  found 
on  the  plains,  among  the  foothills,  and  up  in  the  moun- 
tains as  far  as  the  timber-line,  not  only  close  to  human 
neighborhoods,  but  also  in  the  most  inaccessible  soli- 
tudes. 

In  one  of  my  excursions  along  a  stream  below  Colorado 
Springs,  one  nest  was  found  that  was  still  occupied  by 
the  brooding  bird.  It  was  a  bulky  affair,  perhaps  half 
as  large  as  a  bushel  basket,  placed  in  the  crotch  of  a 
tree  about  thirty  feet  from  the  ground.  Within  this 
commodious  structure  was  a  globular  apartment  which 
constituted  the  nest  proper.  Thus  it  was  roofed  over, 
and  had  an  entrance  at  each  side,  so  that  the  bird  could 
go  into  his  house  at  one  doorway  and  out  at  the  other, 


INTRODUCTION   TO   SOME   SPECIES  4>3 

the  room  being  too  small  to  permit  of  his  turning  around 
in  it.  Thinking  the  nest  might  be  occupied,  in  a  ten- 
tative way  I  tossed  a  small  club  up  among  the  branches, 
when  to  my  surprise  a  magpie  sprang  out  of  the  nest, 
and,  making  no  outcry,  swung  around  among  the  trees, 
appearing  quite  nervous  and  shy.  When  she  saw  me 
climbing  the  tree,  she  set  up  such  a  heart-broken  series 
of  cries  that  I  permitted  sentiment  to  get  the  better  of 
me,  and  clambered  down  as  fast  as  I  could,  rather  than 
prolong  her  distress.  Since  then  I  have  greatly  regretted 
my  failure  to  climb  up  to  the  nest  and  examine  its  con- 
tents, which  might  have  been  done  without  the  least 
injury  to  the  owner's  valuable  treasures.  A  nestful  of 
magpie's  eggs  or  bairns  would  have  been  a  gratifying 
sight  to  my  bird-hungry  eyes. 

One  bird  which  is  familiar  in  the  East  as  well  as  the 
West  deserves  attention  on  account  of  its  choice  of 
haunts.  I  refer  to  the  turtle  dove,  which  is  much 
hardier  than  its  mild  and  innocent  looks  would  seem  to 
indicate.  It  may  be  remarked,  in  passing,  that  very  few 
birds  are  found  in  the  deep  canons  and  gorges  leading 
up  to  the  higher  localities ;  but  the  doves  seem  to  consti- 
tute the  one  exception  to  the  rule ;  for  I  saw  them  in 
some  of  the  gloomiest  defiles  through  which  the  train 
scurried  in  crossing  the  mountains.  For  instance,  in  the 
canon  of  the  Arkansas  River  many  of  them  were  seen  from 
the  car  window,  a  pair  just  beyond  the  Royal  Gorge 


44 


BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 


darting  across  the  turbulent  stream  to  the  other  side. 
A  number  were  also  noticed  in  the  darkest  portions  of 
the  canon  of  the  Grand  River,  where  one  would  think  not 
a  living  creature  could  coax  subsistence  from  the  bare 
rocks  and  beetling  cliffs.     Turtle  doves  are  so  plentiful 
in  the  West  that  their  distribution  over  every  avail- 
able feeding  ground  seems  to 
M4  be  a  matter  of  social 
and     economic 
necessitv.  *  ~* 


Zk^^- 


Turtle  Doves 


Darting  across  the 
turbulent  stream  " 


BALD  PEAKS   AND   GREEN  VALES 


Plate  II 


Green-tailed  Towhee — Pipi/o  cJihruriis 

(Male) 

Spurred  Towhee — Fipi/o  megalonyoo 

(Male) 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES 

ONE  of  my  chief  objects  in  visiting  the  Rockies 
was  to  ascend  Pike's  Peak  from  Manitou,  and 
make  observations  on  the  birds  from  the  base 
to  the  summit.  A  walk  one  afternoon  up  to  the  Half- 
way House  and  back  —  the  Halfway  House  is  only 
about  one-third  of  the  way  to  the  top  —  convinced  me 
that  to  climb  the  entire  distance  on  foot  would  be  a 
useless  expenditure  of  time  and  effort.  An  idea  struck 
me  :  Why  not  ride  up  on  the  cog-wheel  train,  and  then 
walk  down,  going  around  by  some  of  the  valleys  and 
taking  all  the  time  needed  for  observations  on  the  avi- 
faunal  tenantry  ?  That  was  the  plan  pursued,  and  an 
excellent  one  it  proved. 

When  the  puffing  cog-wheel  train  landed  me  on  the 
summit,  I  was  fresh  and  vigorous,  and  therefore  in  ex- 
cellent condition  physically  and  mentally  to  enjoy  the 
scenery  and  also  to  ride  my  hobby  at  will  over  the  realm 
of  cloudland.  The  summit  is  a  bald  area  of  several 
acres,  strewn  with  immense  fragments  of  granite,  with 
not  a  spear  of  grass  visible.  One  of  the  signal-station 
men  asked  a  friend  who  had  just  come  up  from  the 

47 


48  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

plain,  "  Is  there  anything  green  down  below  ?  I  'd  give 
almost  anything  to  see  a  green  patch  of  some  kind."''' 
There  was  a  yearning  strain  in  his  tones  that  really 
struck  me  as  pathetic.  Here  were  visitors  revelling  in 
the  magnificence  of  the  panorama,  their  pulses  tingling 
and  their  feelings  in  many  cases  too  exalted  for  expres- 
sion ;  but  those  whose  business  or  duty  it  was  to  remain 
on  the  summit  day  after  day  soon  found  life  growing 
monotonous,  and  longed  to  set  their  eyes  on  some  patch 
of  verdure.  To  the  visitors,  however,  who  were  in  hale 
physical  condition,  the  panorama  of  snow-clad  ranges 
and  isolated  peaks  was  almost  overwhelming.  In  the 
gorges  and  sheltered  depressions  of  the  old  mountain's 
sides  large  fields  of  snow  still  gleamed  in  the  sun  and 
imparted  to  the  air  a  frosty  crispness. 

When  the  crowd  of  tourists,  after  posing  for  their 
photographs,  had  departed  on  the  descending  car,  I 
walked  out  over  the  summit  to  see  what  birds,  if 
any,  had  selected  an  altitude  of  fourteen  thousand 
one  hundred  and  forty-seven  feet  above  sea-level 
for  their  summer  home.  Below  me,  to  the  east, 
stretched  the  gray  plains  running  off  to  the  sky- 
line, while  the  foothills  and  lower  mountains,  which  had 
previously  appeared  so  high  and  rugged  and  difficult  of 
access,  now  seemed  like  ant-hills  crouching  at  the  foot  of 
the  giant  on  whose  crown  I  stood.  Off  to  the  southwest, 
the  west,  and  the  northwest,  the  snowy  ranges  towered. 


BALD   PEAKS   AND   GREEN  VALES  49 

iridescent  in  the  sunlight.  In  contemplating  this  vast, 
overawing  scene,  I  almost  forgot  my  natural  history, 
and  wanted  to  feast  my  eyes  for  hours  on  its  ever-chang- 
ing beauty ;  but  presently  I  was  brought  back  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  my  special  vocation  by  a  sharp  chirp. 
Was  it  a  bird,  or  only  one  of  those  playful  little  chip- 
munks that  abound  in  the  Rockies?  Directly  there 
sounded  out  on  the  serene  air  another  ringing  chirp, 
this  time  overhead,  and,  to  my  delight  and  surprise,  a 
little  bird  swung  over  the  summit,  then  out  over  the 
edge  of  the  cliff,  and  plunged  down  into  the  fearsome 
abyss  of  the  "Bottomless  Pit.""  Other  birds  of  the 
same  species  soon  followed  his  example,  making  it 
evident  that  this  was  not  a  birdless  region.  Unable  to 
identify  the  winged  aeronauts,  I  clambered  about  over 
the  rocks  of  the  summit  for  a  while,  then  slowly  made 
my  way  down  the  southern  declivity  of  the  mountain 
for  a  short  distance.  Again  my  ear  was  greeted  with  that 
loud,  ringing  chirp,  and  now  the  bird  uttering  it  oblig- 
ingly alighted  on  a  stone  not  too  far  away  to  be  seen 
distinctly  through  my  binocular.  Who  was  the  little 
waif  that  had  chosen  this  sky-invading  summit  for  its 
summer  habitat  ?  At  first  I  mistook  it  for  a  horned 
lark,  and  felt  so  sure  my  decision  was  correct  that 
I  did  not  look  at  the  bird  as  searchingly  as  I  should 
have  done,  thereby  learning  a  valuable  lesson  in 
thoroughness.     The  error  was  corrected  by  my  friend. 


50 


BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 


Mr.  Charles  E.  Aiken,  of  Colorado  Springs,  who  has 
been  of  not  a  little  service  in  determining  and  classify- 
ing the  avian  fauna  of  Colorado.  My  new-found  friend 
(the  feathered  one,  I  mean)  was  the  American  pipit, 
which  some  years  ago  was  known  as  the  tit-lark. 

"  Te-cheer  !  te-cheer  !  te-cheer  ! "'"'  (accent  strong  on 
the  second  syllable)  the  birds  exclaimed  in  half-petulant 
remonstrance  at  my  intrusion  as  I  hobbled  about  over 
the  rocks.  Presently  one  of  them  darted  up  into  the 
air ;  up,  up,  up,  he  swung  in  a  series  of  oblique  leaps 
and  circles,  this  way  and  that,  until  he  became  a  mere 
speck  in  the  sky,  and  then  disappeared  from  sight  in 
the  cerulean  depths  beyond.  All  the  while  I  could  hear 
his  emphatic  and  rapidly  repeated  call,  "  Te-cheer !  te- 
cheer!"  sifting  down  out  of  the  blue  canopy.  How 
long  he  remained  aloft  in  "his  watch-tower  in  the 
skies"  I  do  not  know,  for  one  cannot  well  count 
minutes  in  such  exciting  circumstances,  but  it  seemed 
a  long  time.  By  and  by  the  call  appeared 
to  be  coming  nearer,  and  the  little 
aeronaut  swept  dow  n  with  a  swiftness 
that  made  my  blood  tingle,  and 
alighted  on  a  rock  as  lightly  as 
a  snowflake.  Afterwards  a  num- 
ber of  other  pipits  performed 
\  the  same  aerial  exploit. 
It    was    wonderful    to    see 


"  Te-cheer!    Te-cheer  I  " 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES 


51 


them  rise  several  hundred  feet  into  the  rarefied 
phere  over  an  abyss  so  deep  that  it  has  been 
the  '*  Bottomless  Pit/' 

The  pipits  frequently  flitted  from 
rock  to  rock,  teetering  their  slender 
bodies  like  sandpipers,  and  chirping 
their  disapproval  of  my  presence. 
They  furnished  some  evidence 
of  having    begun    the    work 
of  nest  construction,  although 
no  nests  were  found,  as  it  was 
doubtless   still    too   early   in 
the  season.     In  some  respects 
the  pipits  are  extremely  inter- 
esting,   for,    while    many    of 
them  breed  in  remote  northern 
latitudes,  others  select  the  lof- 
tiest summits  of  the  Rockies 
for  summer  homes,  where  they  rear  their 
broods  and  scour  the  alpine  heights    in 
search  of  food.     The  following  interesting 
facts  relative  to  them  in  this  alpine  country 
are  gleaned  from  Professor  Cooke's  pam- 
phlet on  "  The  Birds  of  Colorado"  : 

In  migration  they  are  common  through- 
out the  State,  but  breed  only  on  the  loftiest 
mountains.     They  arrive  on  the  plains  from 


atmos- 
named 


Pipits 


Up  over  the 
Bottomless  Pit " 


52  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

the  South  about  the  last  of  April,  tarry  for  nearly  a  month, 
then  hie  to  the  upper  mountain  parks,  stopping  there  to 
spend  the  month  of  May.  By  the  first  of  June  they  have 
ascended  above  timber-line  to  their  summer  home  amid  the 
treeless  slopes  and  acclivities.  Laying  begins  early  in  July, 
as  soon  as  the  first  grass  is  started.  Most  of  the  nests  are  to 
be  found  at  an  elevation  of  twelve  thousand  to  thirteen 
thousand  feet,  the  lowest  known  being  one  on  Mount 
Audubon,  discovered  on  the  third  of  July  with  fresh  eggs. 
During  the  breeding  season  these  birds  never  descend 
below  timber-line.  The  young  birds  having  left  the  nest, 
in  August  both  old  and  young  gather  in  flocks  and  range 
over  the  bald  mountain  peaks  in  quest  of  such  dainties  as 
are  to  the  pipit  taste.  Some  of  them  remain  above  timber- 
line  until  October  although  most  of  them  have  by  that  time 
gone  down  into  the  upper  parks  of  the  mountains.  Dur- 
ing this  month  they  descend  to  the  plain s,and  in  November 
return  to  their  winter  residence  in  the  South. 

While  watching  the  pipits,  I  had  another  surprise. 
On  a  small,  grassy  area  amid  the  rocks,  about  a  hun- 
dred feet  below  the  summit,  a  white-crowned  sparrow 
was  hopping  about  on  the  ground,  now  leaping  upon  a 
large  stone,  now  creeping  into  an  open  space  under  the 
rocks,  all  the  while  picking  up  some  kind  of  seed  or  nut 
or  insect.  It  was  very  confiding,  coming  close  to  me, 
but  vouchsafing  neither  song  nor  chirp.  Farther  on  I 
shall  have  more  to  say  about  these  tuneful  birds,  but  at 
this  point  it  is  interesting  to  observe  that  they  breed 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES    53 

abundantly  among  the  mountains  at  a  height  of  from 
eight  thousand  to  eleven  thousand  feet,  while  the  high- 
est nest  known  to  explorers  was  twelve  thousand  five 
hundred  feet  above  the  sea.  One  of  Colorado'^s  bird 
men  has  noted  the  curious  fact  that  they  change  their 
location  between  the  first  and  second  broods  —  that  is, 
in  a  certain  park  at  an  elevation  of  eight  thousand  feet 
they  breed  abundantly  in  June,  and  then  most  of  them 
leave  that  region  and  become  numerous  among  the 
stunted  bushes  above  timber-line,  where  they  raise  a 
second  brood.  It  only  remains  to  be  proved  that  the 
birds  in  both  localities  are  the  same  individuals,  which 
is  probable. 

On  a  shoulder  of  the  mountain  below  me,  a  flock  of 
ravens  alighted  on  the  ground,  walked  about  awhile, 
uttered  their  hoarse  croaks,  and  then  took  their 
departure,  apparently  in  sullen  mood.  I  could  not 
tell  whether  they  croaked  "  Nevermore  ! "'"'  or  not. 

Down  the  mountain  side  I  clambered,  occasionally 
picking  a  beautiful  blossom  from  the  many  brilliant- 
hued  clusters  and  inhaling  its  fragrance.  Indeed,  some- 
times the  breeze  was  laden  with  the  aroma  of  these 
flowers,  and  in  places  the  slope  looked  like  a  culti- 
vated garden.  The  only  birds  seen  that  afternoon 
above  timber-line  were  those  already  mentioned.  What 
do  the  birds  find  to  eat  in  these  treeless  and  shrubless 
altitudes?     There  are  many  flies,  some  grasshoppers, 


54  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

bumble-bees,  beetles,  and  other  insects,  even  in  these 
arctic  regions,  dwelling  among  the  rocks  and  in  the 
short  grass  below  them  watered  by  the  melting  snows. 

At  about  half-past  four  in  the  afternoon  I  reached 
the  timber-line,  indicated  by  a  few  small,  scattering 
pines  and  many  thick  clumps  of  bushes.  Suddenly  a 
loud,  melodious  song  brought  me  to  a  standstill.  It 
came  from  the  bushes  at  the  side  of  the  trail.  Although 
I  turned  aside  and  sought  diligently,  I  could  not  find 
the  shy  lyrist.  Another  song  of  the  same  kind  soon 
reached  me  from  a  distance.  Farther  down  the  path  a 
white-crowned  sparrow  appeared,  courting  his  mate. 
With  crown-feathers  and  head  and  tail  erect,  he  would 
glide  to  the  top  of  a  stone,  then  down  into  the  grass 
where  his  lady-love  sat ;  up  and  down,  up  and  down  he 
scuttled  again  and  again.  My  approach  put  an  end  to 
the  picturesque  little  comedy.  The  lady  scurried  away 
into  hiding,  while  the  little  prince  with  the  snow-white 
diadem  mounted  to  the  top  of  a  bush  and  whistled  the 
very  strain  that  had  surprised  me  so  a  little  while 
before,  farther  up  the  slope.  Yes,  1  had  stumbled  into 
the  summer  home  of  the  white-crowned  spari'ow,  which 
on  the  Atlantic  coast  and  the  central  portions  of  the 
American  continent  breeds  far  in  the  North. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  was  regaled  with  a  white- 
crown  vesper  concert.  From  every  part  of  the  lonely 
valley  the  voices  sounded.     And  what  did  they  say? 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES 


55 


"Oh,  de-e-e-ar,  de-e-ar,  Whittier,  Whittier,"  some- 
times adding,  in  low,  caressing  tones,  "Dear  Whit- 
tier"—  one  of  the  most  melodious  tributes  to  the 
Quaker  poet  I  have  ever  heard.  Here  I  also  saw 
my  first  mountain  bluebird,  whose  back  and  breast 
are  wholly  blue,  there  being  no  rufous  at  all  in  his 
plumage.  He  was  feeding  a  youngster  some- 
where among  the  snags.  A  red-shafted  flicker 
flew  across  the  vale  and  called,  "  Zwick- 
ah  !  zwick-ah  !  "  and  then  pealed  out  his 
loud  call  just  like  the  eastern  yellow- 
shafted  high-holder.  Why  the  Rocky 
Mountain  region  changes  the  lining 
of  the  flicker's  wings  from  gold  to 
crimson  —  who  can  tell  ?  A  robin  — 
the  western  variety — sang  his  "  Cheer- 
ily," a  short  distance  up  the  hollow, 
right  at  the  boundary  of  the  timber-line. 

About  half-past  five  I  found  myself  a  few 
hundred  feet  below  timber-line  in  the  lone 
valley,  which  was  already  beginning  to  look  shadowy 
and  a  little  uncanny,  the  tall  ridges  that  leaped  up  at  the 
right  obscuring  the  light  of  the  declining  sun.  My  pur- 
pose had  been  to  find  accommodations  at  a  mountaineer's 
cabin  far  down  the  valley,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Seven  Lakes ;  but  I  had  tarried  too  long  on  the  moun- 
tain, absorbed  in  watching  the  birds,  and  the  danger 


Dear  JVhi 


IVhite-Crovm 
Spc 


56  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

now  was  that,  if  I  ventured  farther  down  the  hollow,  I 
should  lose  my  way  and  be  compelled  to  spend  the  night 
alone  in  this  deserted  place.  I  am  neither  very  brave 
nor  very  cowardly ;  but,  in  any  case,  such  a  prospect  was 
not  pleasing  to  contemplate.  Besides,  I  was  by  no  means 
sure  of  being  able  to  secure  lodgings  at  the  mountaineer'^s 
shanty,  even  if  I  should  be  able  to  find  it  in  the  dark. 
There  seemed  to  be  only  one  thing  to  do  —  to  climb 
back  to  the  signal  station  on  the  summit. 

I  turned  about  and  began  the  ascent.  How  much 
steeper  the  acclivities  were  than  they  had  seemed  to  be 
when  I  came  down  !  My  limbs  ached  before  I  had 
gone  many  rods,  and  my  breath  came  short.  Upward  I 
toiled,  and  by  the  time  my  trail  reached  the  cog-road 
I  was  ready  to  drop  from  exhaustion.  Yet  I  had  not 
gone  more  than  a  third  of  the  way  to  the  top.  I  had 
had  no  supper,  but  was  too  weary  even  to  crave  food, 
my  only  desire  being  to  find  some  place  wherein  to  rest. 
Night  had  now  come,  but  fortunately  the  moon  shone 
brightly  from  a  sky  that  was  almost  clear,  and  I  had 
no  difficulty  in  following  the  road. 

Wearily  I  began  to  climb  up  the  steep  cog-wheel 
track.  Having  trudged  around  one  curve,  I  came  to  a 
portion  of  the  road  that  stretched  straight  up  before 
me  "for  what  seemed  an  almost  interminable  distance, 
and,  oh  !  the  way  looked  so  steep,  almost  as  if  it  would 
tumble  back  upon  my  head.     Could  I  ever  drag  myself 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES    57 

up  to  the  next  bend  in  the  track  ?  By  a  prodigious 
effort  I  did  this  at  last  —  it  seemed  "  at  last '"'  to  me,  at 
all  events  —  and,  lo  !  there  gleamed  before  me  another 
long  stretch  of  four  steel  rails. 

My  breath  came  shorter  and  shorter,  until  I  was 
compelled  to  open  my  mouth  widely  and  gasp  the  cold, 
rarefied  air,  which,  it  seemed,  would  not  fill  my  chest 
with  the  needed  oxygen.  Sharp  pains  shot  through  my 
lungs,  especially  in  the  extremities  far  down  in  the 
chest;  my  head  and  eye-balls  ached,  and  it  seemed 
sometimes  as  if  they  would  burst ;  my  limbs  trembled 
with  weakness,  and  I  tottered  and  reeled  like  a  drunken 
man  from  side  to  side  of  the  road,  having  to  watch 
carefully  lest  I  might  topple  over  the  edge  and  meet 
with  a  serious  accident.  Still  that  relentless  track, 
with  its  quartette  of  steel  rails,  stretched  steep  before 
me  in  the  distance. 

For  the  last  half  mile  or  more  I  was  compelled  to 
fling  myself  down  upon  the  track  every  few  rods  to  rest 
and  recover  breath.  L^p,  up,  the  road  climbed,  until  at 
length  I  reached  the  point  where  it  ceases  to  swing 
around  the  shoulders  of  the  mountain,  and  ascends 
directly  to  the  summit.  Here  was  the  steepest  climb 
of  all.  By  throwing  my  weary  frame  on  the  track  at 
frequent  intervals  and  resting  for  five  minutes,  taking 
deep  draughts  of  air  between  my  parched  lips,  I  at  last 
came  in  sight  of  the  government  building.    It  is  neither 


58  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

a  mansion  nor  a  palace,  not  even  a  cottage,  but  never 
before  was  I  so  glad  to  get  a  glimpse  of  a  building 
erected  by  human  hands.  It  was  past  nine  o'clock  when 
I  staggered  up  to  the  door  and  rang  the  night  bell, 
having  spent  more  than  three  hours  and  a  half  in 
climbing  about  two  miles  and  a  half.  Too  weary  to 
sleep,  I  tossed  for  hours  on  my  bed.  At  last,  however, 
"  nature's  sweet  restorer  "  came  to  my  relief,  and  I  slept 
the  deep  sleep  of  unconsciousness  until  seven  o'clock 
the  next  morning,  allowing  the  sun  to  rise  upon  the 
Peak  without  getting  up  to  greet  him.  That  omission 
may  have  been  an  unpardonable  sin,  for  one  of  the 
chief  fads  of  visitors  is  to  see  the  sun  rise  from  the 
Peak ;  but  I  must  say  in  my  defence  that,  in  the  first 
place,  I  failed  to  wake  up  in  time  to  witness  the  Day 
King's  advent,  and,  in  a  second  place,  being  on  bird 
lore  intent  rather  than  scenic  wonders,  my  principal 
need  was  to  recruit  my  strength  for  the  tramping  to  be 
done  during  the  day.  The  sequel  proved  that,  for  my 
special  purpose,  I  had  chosen  the  wiser  course. 

By  eight  o'clock  I  had  written  a  letter  home,  eaten  a 
refreshing  breakfast,  paying  a  dollar  for  it,  and  another 
for  lodging,  and  was  starting  down  the  mountain,  sur- 
prised at  the  exhilaration  I  felt,  in  view  of  my  extreme 
exhaustion  of  the  evening  before.  I  naturally  expected 
to  feel  stiff  and  sore  in  every  joint,  languid  and  woe-be- 
gone ;  but  such  was  not  the  case.     It  is  wonderful  how 


BALD   PEAKS   AND   GREEN   VALES  59 

soon  one  recovers  strength  among  these  heights.  How 
bracing  is  the  cool  mountain  air,  if  you  breathe  it 
deeply  !  As  I  began  the  descent,  I  whistled  and  sang, 
—  that  is,  I  tried  to.  To  be  frank,  it  was  all  noise  and 
no  music,  but  I  must  have  some  way  of  giving  expres- 
sion to  the  uplifted  emotions  that  filled  my  breast. 
Again  and  again  I  said  to  myself,  "  I  'm  so  glad  !  I  'm 
so  glad  !  I  "*m  so  glad ! "  It  was  gladness  pure  and 
simple,  —  the  dictionary  has  no  other  word  to  express 
it.  No  pen  can  do  justice  to  the  panorama  of  moun- 
tain and  valley  and  plain  as  viewed  from  such  a  height 
on  a  clear,  crisp  morning  of  June.  One  felt  like  ex- 
claiming with  George  Herbert : 

*♦  Sweet  day,  so  cool,  so  calm,  so  bright. 
The  bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky  !  " 

So  far  as  the  aesthetic  value  of  it  went,  I  was  monarch 
of  all  I  surveyed,  even  though  mile  on  mile  of  grandeur 
and  glory  was  spread  out  before  me.  The  quatrain  of 
Lowell  recurred  to  my  mind : 

**  Tis  heaven  alone  that  is  given  away, 
T  is  only  God  may  be  had  for  the  asking ; 
No  price  is  set  on  the  lavish  summer ; 
June  may  be  had  by  poorest  comer." 

Before  leaving  the  Peak,  I  watched  a  flock  of  birds 
eating  from  the  waste-heap  at  the  Summit  House.  They 
were  the  brown-capped  rosy  finches,  called  scientifically 
Leucosticte  australis.     Their  plumage  w^  a  rich  choco- 


60  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

late,  suffused  over  neck,  breast,  and  back  with  intense 
crimson,  while  the  pileum  was  quite  black.  With  one 
exception  —  the  white-tailed  ptarmigan  —  they  range 
the  highest  in  summer  of  all  Colorado  birds.  They  are 
never  seen  below  timber-line  in  that  season,  and  are  not 
known  to  breed  below  twelve  thousand  feet ;  thence  to 
the  tops  of  the  highest  peaks  they  hatch  and  rear  their 
young.  In  August  old  and  young  swarm  over  the  sum- 
mits picking  edible  insects  from  the  snow,  while  in  winter 
they  descend  to  timber-line,  where  most  of  them  remain 
to  brave  the  arctic  weather  and  its  frequent  storms. 

Bidding  a  regretful  good-by  to  the  summit,  for  it 
held  me  as  by  a  magician^s  spell,  I  hastened  down  the 
steep  incline  of  the  cog-wheel  road,  past  Windy  Point, 
and  turning  to  the  right,  descended  across  the  green 
slope  below  the  boulder  region  to  the  open,  sunlit  valley 
which  I  had  visited  on  the  previous  afternoon.  It  was 
an  idyllic  place,  a  veritable  paradise  for  birds.  Such  a 
chorus  as  greeted  me  from  the  throats  of  I  know  not 
how  many  white-crowned  sparrows,  —  several  dozen,  per- 
haps, —  it  would  have  done  the  heart  of  any  lover  of 
avian  minstrelsy  good  to  listen  to.  The  whole  valley 
seemed  to  be  transfigured  by  their  roundelays,  which 
have  about  them  such  an  air  of  poetry  and  old-world 
romance.  During  the  morning  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
find  a  nest,  the  first  of  this  species  that  I  had  ever  dis- 
covered.    Providence  had  never  before  cast  my  lot  with 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES    6l 

these  birds  in  their  breeding  haunts.  The  nest  was  a 
pretty  structure  placed  on  the  ground,  beneath  a  bush 
amid  the  green  grass,  its  holdings  consisting  of  four 
dainty,  pale-blue  eggs,  speckled  with  brown.  The 
female  leaped  from  her  seat  as  I  passed  near,  and  in 
that  act  divulged  her  little  family  secret.  Although 
she  chirped  uneasily  as  I  bent  over  her  treasures,  she 
had  all  her  solicitude  for  nothing ;  the  last  thing  I 
would  think  of  doing  would  be  to  mar  her  maternal 
prospects.  As  has  been  said,  in  this  valley  these  hand- 
some sparrows  were  quite  plentiful ;  but  when,  toward 
evening,  I  clambered  over  a  ridge,  and  descended  into 
the  valley  of  Moraine  Lake,  several  hundred  feet  lower 
than  the  Seven  Lakes  valley,  what  was  my  surprise  to 
find  not  a  white-crown  there !  The  next  day  I  trudged 
up  to  the  Seven  Lakes,  and  found  the  white-crowns 
quite  abundant  in  the  copses,  as  they  had  been  farther 
up  the  hollow  on  the  previous  day  ;  and,  besides,  in  a 
boggy  place  about  two  miles  below  Moraine  Lake  there 
were  several  pairs,  and  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  find 
a  nest.  Strange  —  was  it  not  ?  —  that  these  birds 
should  avoid  the  copsy  swamps  near  Moraine  Lake,  and 
yet  select  for  breeding  homes  the  valleys  both  above 
and  below  it.  Perhaps  the  valley  of  Moraine  Lake  is 
a  little  too  secluded  and  shut  in  by  the  towering 
mountains  on  three  sides,  the  other  places  being  more 
open  and  sunshiny. 


62  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

The  upper  valley  was  the  summer  home  of  that  mu- 
sician par  excellence  of  the  Rockies,  the  green-tailed 
towhee,  and  he  sang  most  divinely,  pouring  out  his 

*'  full  heart 
In  profuse  strains  of  unpremeditated  art." 

Having  elsewhere  described  his  minstrelsy  and  habits 
with  more  or  less  fulness,  I  need  give  him  only  this 
passing  reference  here.  A  little  bird  with  which  I  here 
first  made  acquaintance  was  an  elegant  species  known 
as  Audubon's  warbler,  which  may  be  regarded  as  the 
western  representative  of  the  myrtle  warbler  of  the  East. 
The  two  birds  are  almost  counterparts.  Indeed,  at  first 
I  mistook  the  Audubon  for  the  myrtle.  The  former 
has  a  yellow  throat,  while  the  latter's  throat  is  white. 

In  all  the  upper  mountain  valleys,  and  on  the  steep 
slopes  of  the  western  as  well  as  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Divide,  I  had  the  Audubon  warblers  often  at  my  elbow. 
In  summer  they  make  their  homes  at  an  altitude  of 
seven  to  eleven  thousand  feet,  and  are  partial  to  pine 
timber ;  indeed,  I  think  I  never  found  them  elsewhere, 
save  occasionally  among  the  quaking  asps.  I  learned 
to  distinguish  Audubon*'s  chanson  from  those  of  his 
fellow-minstrels.  It  is  not  much  of  a  song  —  a  rather 
weak  little  trill,  with  a  kind  of  drawl  in  the  vocalization 
that  forms  its  diagnostic  feature.  The  persistency  with 
which  it  is  repeated  on  the  solitary  pine-clad  mountain 
sides  constitutes  its  principal  charm. 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES    63 

The  winter  haunts  of  Audubon'*s  warblers  are  farther 
south  than  Colorado,  mostly  in  Mexico  and  Guatemala, 
although  a  few  of  them  remain  in  the  sheltered  moun- 
tain valleys  of  the  western  part  of  the  United  States. 
Early  in  May  they  appear  on  the  plains  of  eastern  Col- 
orado, where  they  are  known  only  as  migrants.  Here  a 
double  movement  presently  takes  place  —  what  might 
be  called  a  longitudinal  and  a  vertical  migration  —  one 
division  of  the  warbler  army  sweeping  north  to  their 
breeding  grounds  in  Canada,  and  the  other  wheeling 
westward  and  ascending  to  the  alpine  heights  among 
the  mountains,  where  they  find  the  subartic  conditions 
that  are  congenial  to  their  natures  without  travelling  so 
great  a  distance.  Here  they  build  their  nests  in  the 
pine  or  spruce  trees,  rear  their  families,  and  as  autumn 
approaches,  descend  to  the  plains,  tarry  there  a  week  or 
two,  then  hie  to  their  winter  homes  in  the  South. 

One  of  the  most  gorgeous  tenants  of  this  valley  was 
Wilson's  warbler.^  It  wears  a  dainty  little  cap  that  is 
jet  black,  bordered  in  front  and  below  with  golden  yel- 
low, while  the  upper  parts  are  rich  olive  and  the  lower 
parts  bright  yellow.  These  warblers  were  quite  abun- 
dant, and  were  evidently  partial  to  the  thickets  covering 
the   boggy   portions   of  the   vale.     While    Audubon''s 

1  Mr.  Aiken  says,  "The  Rocky  Mountain  representative  of 
Wilson's  warbler  is  an  intermediate  form,  nearest  the  Pacific  coast 
bird  which  is  distinguished  as  the  pileolated  warbler." 


64  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

warblers  kept  themselves  for  the  most  part  among  the 
pines  on  the  slopes  and  acclivities,  the  little  black -caps 
preferred  the  lower  ground.  Their  songs  were  not  bril- 
liant performances,  though  rather  pleasing,  being  short, 
jerky  trills,  somewhat  lower  in  the  scale  than  those  of 
the  well-known  summer  warbler. 

While  I  was  stalking  about  in  the  low,  boggy  part 
of  the  hollow,  my  attention  was  attracted  by  an  odd 
little  song  that  came  rolling  down  from  the  pines  on 
the  mountain  side.  At  length,  time  was  found  to  go  to 
the  place  whence  the  song  came.  What  could  the  gay 
little  minstrel  be  ?  Somewhere  I  had  heard  such  min- 
strelsy —  but  where  ?  There  were  runs  in  it  that  bore 
some  resemblance  to  certain  strains  of  the  Carolina 
wren'^s  vigorous  lays,  but  this  songster"'s  voice  was  of  a 
finer  quality  and  had  less  volume  than  that  of  the 
Carolina.  The  little  bird  was  found  flitting  among  the 
pines,  and  continued  to  sing  his  gay  little  ballad  with 
as  much  vigor  as  before.  Indeed,  my  presence  seemed 
to  inspire  him  to  redouble  his  efforts  and  to  sing  with 
more  snap  and  challenge.  He  acted  somewhat  like  a 
wren,  but  was  smaller  than  any  species  of  that  family 
with  which  I  was  acquainted,  and  no  part  of  his  plumage 
was  barred  with  brown  and  white. 

Now  the  midget  in  feathers  leaped  up  the  alternating 
branches  of  a  pine,  and  now  he  flew  down  and  fluttered 
amid  the  chaos  of  dead  logs  and  boughs  on  the  ground. 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES 


65 


all  the  while  rolling  his  ditty  from  his  limber  tongue. 
Beginning  with  an  exceedingly  fine  whistle,  which  could 
not  be  heard  far  away,  he  descanted  in  sounds  that  it  is 
impossible  to  convey  in  syllables.  The  best  literation 
of  his  song  that  I  was  able  to  make  was  the  following : 
"  Tse-e-ek,  tse-e-ek,  tse-e-e-ek,  cholly-cholly-cholly,  che- 
che-che,  pur-tie,  pur-tie,  pur- tie  ! ""  the  pur-tie  accented 
strongly  on  the  second  syllable  and  the  whole  per- 
formance closing  with  an  interrogative  inflection. 

For  a  long  time  I  watched  the  little  acrobat,  but 
could  not  settle  his  identity.  Some  hours  later,  while 
stalking  along  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  I  heard  the 
song  duplicated ;  this  time  the  singer  elevated  his  crest 
feathers,  and  at  once  I  recognized  him  ;  he  was  the  ruby- 
crowned  kinglet,  of  course,  of  course !  It  was  a  shame 
not  to  identify  him  at  first  sight.  In  Ohio  I  had  often 
heard  his  song  during  the  migrating  season,  and  now 
remembered  it  well ;  but  never  dreaming  that  the  ruby- 
crown  would  be  found  in  these 
alpine  districts,  I  was  com- 
pletely thrown  off  my 
reckoning  on  hearing 
his    quaint    melodies. 

The     ruby-crowned 
kinglet  migrates  to  these 
heights    in    the  spring     ^tt^HI^^^    )-4^ 
and  rears  his  brood  at 


"  The  singer  elevated 
his  crest  feathers" 


66  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

an  elevation  of  from  nine  thousand  feet  to  the  timber- 
line,  building  a  nest  far  up  in  a  pine  tree  ;  whereas  his 
eastern  kindred  hie  to  the  northern  part  of  the  United 
States  and  beyond,  to  find  summer  homes  and  suitable 
breeding  grounds.  Within  their  chosen  boundaries  the 
rubies  are  very  plentiful  in  the  Rockies,  their  quaint 
rondeaus  tumbling  down  from  every  pine-clad  acclivity. 
In  October  they  descend  to  the  plains,  and  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  month  hurry  off  to  a  more  southerly  clime. 

The  birds  were  most  abundant  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  valley,  keeping  close  to  the  precipitous  heights  of 
the  Peak.  It  was  a  long  walk  down  to  the  mountaineer's 
cabin,  and  I  had  reason  to  be  glad  for  not  having  under- 
taken to  find  it  the  evening  before,  as  I  should  cer- 
tainly have  lost  my  way  in  the  darkness.  No  one  was 
at  home  now,  but  through  the  screen  door  I  could  see  a 
canary  in  a  cage.  Not  a  very  inviting  place  to  spend 
the  night,  I  reflected,  and  I  crossed  the  valley,  climbed 
a  steep  ridge,  following  a  slightly  used  wagon  road,  and 
trudged  down  the  other  side  into  what  I  afterwards 
found  was  the  valley  of  Moraine  Lake,  one  of  the  crystal 
sheets  of  water  that  are  seen  from  the  summit  of  Pike's 
Peak  sparkling  in  the  sunshine.  While  climbing  the 
ridge,  I  saw  my  first  mountain  chickadee,  capering  about 
in  the  trees.  He  called  like  the  familiar  black-cap,  and 
his  behavior  was  much  like  that  bird's.  As  will  be  seen 
in  another  chapter,  I  afterwards  heard  the  mountain 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES    67 

chickadee's  song  on  the  western  side  of  the  range,  and 
found  it  to  be  quite  unlike  the  minor  strain  of  our  pleas- 
ant black -cap  of  the  East. 

On  the  mountain  side  forming  the  descent  to  Moraine 
Lake  a  flock  of  Clark's  nutcrackers  were  flying  about  in 
the  pine  woods,  giving  expression  to  their  feelings  in  a 
great  variety  of  calls,  some  of  them  quite  strident. 
A  little  junco  came  in  sight  by  the  side  of  the  trail, 
and  hopped  about  on  the  ground,  and  I  was  surprised 
to  note  a  reddish  patch  ornamenting  the  centre  of  his 
back.  Afterwards  I  learned  that  it  was  the  gray- 
headed  junco,  which  is  distinctly  a  western  species,  breed- 
ing among  the  mountains  of  Colorado.  Thrashing  about 
among  some  dead  boles,  and  making  a  great  to-do,  were 
a  pair  of  small  woodpeckers,  which  closely  resembled  the 
well-known  downies  of  our  eastern  longitudes.  I  suppose 
them  to  have  been  their  western  representatives,  which 
are  known,  according  to  Mr.  Aiken  and  Professor  Cooke, 
as  Batchelder's  woodpecker.  Near  the  same  place  I  saw 
a  second  pair  of  mountain  bluebirds,  flitting  about  some- 
what nervously,  and  uttering  a  gentle  sigh  at  inter- 
vals; but  as  evening  was  now  rapidly  approaching,  I 
felt  the  need  of  finding  lodging  for  the  night,  and  could 
not  stop  to  hunt  for  their  nest. 

Faring  down  the  mountain  side  to  the  lake,  I  circled 
around  its  lower  end  until  I  came  to  the  cottage  of  the 
family  who  have  the  care  of  the  reservoirs  that  supply 


68  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

the  three  towns  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  with  water 
fresh  from  the  snowfields.  Here,  to  my  intense  rehef, 
I  was  able  to  secure  lodging  and  board  as  long  as  I 
desired  to  remain. 

I  enjoyed  the  generous  hospitality  offered  me  for  two 
nights  and  considerably  more  than  one  day.  It  was  a 
genuine  retreat,  right  at  the  foot  of  a  tall  mountain, 
embowered  in  a  grove  of  quaking  asps.  Several  persons 
from  Colorado  Springs,  one  of  them  a  professor  of  the 
college,  were  spending  their  outing  at  the  cottage,  and 
a  delightful  fellowship  we  had,  discussing  birds,  litera- 
ture, and  mountain  climbing. 

After  resting  awhile,  I  strolled  up  the  valley  to  listen 
to  the  vesper  concert  of  the  birds,  and  a  rich  one  it 
was.  The  western  robins  were  piping  their  blithesome 
"  Cheerilies,"  Audubon's  warblers  were  trilling  in  the 
pines,  and,  most  of  all  —  but  here  I  had  one  of  the 
most  gratifying  finds  in  all  my  mountain  quest.  It 
will  perhaps  be  remembered  that  the  white-crowned 
sparrows,  so  plentiful  in  the  upper  valley,  were  not  to  be 
seen  in  the  valley  of  Moraine  Lake.  Still  there  were 
compensations  in  this  cloistered  dip  among  the  tower- 
ing mountains ;  the  mountain  hermit  thrushes  —  some- 
times called  Audubon's  thrushes  —  found  the  seques- 
tered valley  precisely  to  their  liking,  and  on  the  evening 
in  question  I  saw  them  and  heard  their  pensive  cadences 
for  the  first  time.     Such  exquisite  tones,  which  seemed 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES    6'9 

to  take  vocal  possession  of  the  vale  and  the  steep,  pine- 
clad  mountain  side,  it  has  seldom  been  my  good  fortune 
to  hear.  Scores  of  the  birds  were  singing  simultane- 
ously, some  of  their  voices  pitched  high  in  the  scale  and 
others  quite  low,  as  though  they  were  furnishing  both 
the  air  and  the  contralto  of  the  chorus.  It  was  my  first 
opportunity  to  listen  to  the  songs  of  any  of  the  several 
varieties  of  hermit  thrushes,  and  I  freely  confess  that  I 
came,  a  willing  captive,  under  the  spell  of  their  min- 
strelsy, so  sweet  and  sad  and  far  away,  and  yet  so  rich 
in  vocal  expression.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  run, 
which  is  all  too  brief,  there  is  a  strain  which  bears  close 
resemblance  to  the  liquid  melody  of  the  eastern  wood- 
thrush,  but  the  opening  notes  have  a  pathetic  quality 
all  their  own.  Perhaps  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts  can  give 
some  idea  of  one's  feelings  at  a  time  like  this : 

"  O  hermit  of  evening  !  thine  hour 
Is  the  sacrament  of  desire. 
When  love  hath  a  heavenlier  flower. 
And  passion  a  hoHer  fire." 

A  happy  moment  it  was  when  a  nest  of  this  moun- 
tain hermit  was  discovered,  saddled  on  one  of  the  lower 
limbs  of  a  pine  and  containing  four  eggs  of  a  rich  green 
color.  These  birds  are  partial  to  dense  pine  forests  on 
the  steep,  rocky  mountain  sides.  They  are  extremely 
shy  and  elusive,  evidently  believing  that  hermit  thrushes 
ought  to  be  heard  and  not  seen.     A  score  or  more  may 


70  BIRDS    OF   THE    ROCKIES 

be  singing  at  a  stone''s  throw  up  an  acclivity,  but  if  you 
clamber  toward  them  they  will  simply  remove  further 
up  the  mountain,  making  your  effort  to  see  and  hear 
them  at  close  range  unavailing.  That  evening,  how- 
ever, as  the  gloaming  settled  upon  the  valley,  one  se- 
lected a  perch  on  a  dead  branch  some  distance  up  the 
hillside,  and  obligingly  permitted  me  to  obtain  a  fair 
view  of  him  with  my  glass.  The  hermits  breed  far  up 
in  the  mountains,  the  greatest  altitude  at  which  I  found 
them  being  on  the  sides  of  Bald  Mountain,  above  Seven 
Lakes  and  a  little  below  the  timber-line.  To  this  day 
their  sad  refrains  are  ringing  in  my  ears,  bringing  back 
the  thought  of  many  half-mournful  facts  and  incidents 
that  haunt  the  memory. 

A  good  night's  rest  in  the  cottage,  close  beneath  the 
unceiled  roof,  prepared  the  bird-lover  for  an  all-day 
ramble.  The  matutinal  concert  was  early  in  full  swing, 
the  hermit  thrushes,  western  robins,  and  Audubon's 
warblers  being  the  chief  choralists.  One  gaudy  Au- 
dubon's warbler  visited  the  quaking  asp  grove  surround- 
ing the  cottage,  and  trilled  the  choicest  selections  of 
his  repertory.  Farther  up  the  valley  several  Wilson's 
warblers  were  seen  and  heard.  A  shy  little  bird  flit- 
ting about  in  the  tangle  of  grass  and  bushes  in  the 
swampy  ground  above  the  lake  was  a  conundrum  to  me 
for  a  long  time,  but  I  now  know  that  it  was  Lincoln's 
sparrow,  which  was  later  found  in  other  ravines  among 


BALD   PEAKS   AND   GREEN  VALES  71 

the  mountains.  It  is  an  exceedingly  wary  bird,  keeping 
itself  hidden  amid  the  bushy  clusters  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  time,  now  and  then  venturing  to  peep  out 
at  the  intruder,  and  then  bolting  quickly  into  a  safe 
covert.  Occasionally  it  will  hop  out  upon  the  top  of 
a  bush  in  plain  sight,  and  remain  for  a  few  moments, 
just  long  enough  for  you  to  fix  its  identity  and  note  the 
character  of  its  pleasing  trill.  Some  of  these  points 
were  settled  afterwards  and  not  on  the  morning  of  my 
first  meeting  with  the  chary  little  songster. 

My  plan  for  the  day  was  to  retrace  my  steps  of  the 
previous  afternoon,  by  climbing  over  the  ridge  into  the 
upper  valley  and  visiting  the  famous  Seven  Lakes,  which 
I  had  missed  the  day  before  through  a  miscalculation  in 
my  direction.  Clark's  crows  and  the  mountain  jays 
were  abundant  on  the  acclivities.  One  of  the  latter 
dashed  out  of  a  pine  bush  with  a  clatter  that  almost 
raised  the  echoes,  but,  look  as  I  would,  I  could  find  no 
nest  or  young  or  anything  else  that  would  account  for 
the  racket. 

The  Seven  Lakes  are  beautiful  little  sheets  of  trans- 
parent water,  embosomed  among  the  mountains  in  a 
somewhat  open  valley  where  there  is  plenty  of  sunshine. 
They  are  visible  from  the  summit  of  Pike's  Peak,  from 
which  distant  viewpoint  they  sparkle  like  sapphire  gems 
in  a  setting  of  green.  As  seen  from  the  Peak  they 
appear  to  be  quite  close  together,  and  the  land  about 


72  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

them  seems  perfectly  level,  but  when  you  visit  the  place 
itself,  you  learn  that  some  of  them  are  separated  from 
the  others  by  ridges  of  considerable  height.  Beautiful 
and  sequestered  as  the  spot  is,  I  did  not  find  as  many 
birds  as  I  expected.  Not  a  duck  or  water  bird  of  any 
kind  was  seen.  Perhaps  there  is  too  much  hunting 
about  the  lakes,  and,  besides,  winged  visitors  here  would 
have  absolutely  no  protection,  for  the  banks  are  free  of 
bushes  of  any  description,  and  no  rushes  or  flags  grow 
in  the  shallower  parts.  On  the  ridges  and  mountain 
sides  the  kinglets  and  hermit  thrushes  were  abundant, 
a  robin  was  carolling,  a  Batchelder  woodpecker  chirped 
and  pounded  in  his  tumultuous  way,  Clark's  crows  and 
several  magpies  lilted  about,  while  below  the  lakes  in 
the  copses  the  white-crowned  sparrows  and  green-tailed 
towhees  held  lyrical  carnival,  their  sway  disputed  only 
by  the  natty  Wilson's  warblers. 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  be  alive  and  well  in  such  a  place, 
where  one  breathed  invigoration  at  every  draught  of 
the  fresh,  untainted  mountain  air;  nor  was  it  less  a 
delight  to  sit  on  the  bank  of  one  of  the  transparent 
lakes  and  eat  my  luncheon  and  quaff  from  a  pellucid 
spring  that  gushed  as  cold  as  ice  and  as  sweet  as  nectar 
from  the  sand,  while  the  white-crowned  sparrows  trilled 
a  serenade  in  the  copses. 

Toward  evening  I  clambered  down  to  the  cottage  by 
Moraine  Lake.     The  next  morning,  in  addition  to  the 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES    73 

birds  already  observed  in  the  valley,  I  listened  to  the 
theme-like  recitative  of  a  warbling  vireo,  and  also 
watched  a  sandpiper  teetering  about  the  edge  of  the 
water,  while  a  red-shafted  flicker  dashed  across  the  lake 
to  a  pine  tree  on  the  opposite  side.  As  I  left  this  at- 
tractive valley,  the  hermit  thrushes  seemed  to  waft  me 
a  sad  farewell. 

A  little  over  half  a  day  was  spent  in  walking  down 
from  Moraine  Lake  to  the  Halfway  House.  It  was  a 
saunter  that  shall  never  be  forgotten,  for  I  gathered  a 
half  day''s  tribute  of  lore  from  the  birds.  A  narrow 
green  hollow,  wedging  itself  into  one  of  the  gorges  of 
the  towering  Peak,  and  watered  by  a  snow-fed  moun- 
tain brook,  proved  a  very  paradise  for  birds.  Here 
was  that  queer  little  midget  of  the  Rockies,  the  broad- 
tailed  humming-bird,  which  performs  such  wonderful 
feats  of  balancing  in  the  air ;  the  red-shafted  flicker ; 
the  western  robin,  singing  precisely  like  his  eastern  half- 
brother  ;  a  pair  of  house-wrens  guarding  their  treasures ; 
Lincoln''s  sparrows,  not  quite  so  shy  as  those  at  Mo- 
raine Lake ;  mountain  chickadees;  olive-sided  flycatchers; 
on  the  pine-clad  mountain  sides  the  lyrical  hermit 
thrushes ;  and  finally  those  ballad-singers  of  the  moun- 
tain vales,  the  white-crowned  sparrows,  one  of  whose 
nests  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  come  upon.  It  was 
placed  in  a  small  pine  bush,  and  was  just  in  process  of 
construction.     One  of  the  birds  flew  fiercely  at  a  mis- 


74  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

chievous  chipmunk,  and  drove  him  away,  as  if  he  knew 
him  for  an  arrant  nest-robber. 

Leaving  this  enchanting  spot,  I  trudged  down  the 
mountain  valleys  and  ravines,  holding  silent  converse 
everywhere  with  the  birds,  and  at  length  reached  a 
small  park,  green  and  bushy,  a  short  distance  above  the 
Halfway  House.  While  jogging  along,  my  eye  caught 
sight  of  a  gray-headed  junco,  which  flitted  from  a  clump 
of  bushes  bordering  the  stream  to  a  spot  on  the  ground 
close  to  some  shrubs.  The  act  appeared  so  suggestive 
that  I  decided  to  reconnoitre.  I  walked  cautiously  to 
the  spot  where  the  bird  had  dropped  down,  and  in  a 
moment  she  flew  up  with  a  scolding  chipper.  There 
was  the  nest,  set  on  the  ground  in  the  grass  and  cosily 
hidden  beneath  the  over-arching  branches  of  a  low  bush. 
Had  the  mother  bird  been  wise  and  courageous  enough 
to  retain  her  place,  her  secret  would  not  have  been  be- 
trayed, the  nest  was  so  well  concealed. 

The  pretty  couch  contained  four  juvenile  j uncos 
covered  only  with  down,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  their  ex- 
treme youth,  their  foreheads  and  lores  showed  black,  and 
their  backs  a  distinctly  reddish  tint,  so  early  in  life  were 
they  adopting  the  pattern  worn  by  their  parents.  The 
persistency  of  species  in  the  floral  and  faunal  realms 
presents  some  hard  nuts  for  the  evolutionist  to  crack. 
But  that  is  an  excursus,  and  would  lead  us  too  far  afield. 
This  was  the  first  junco"*s  nest  I  had  ever  found,  and 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES    75 

no  one  can  blame  me  for  feeling  gratified  with  the  dis- 
covery. The  gray-headed  j  uncos  were  very  abundant  in 
the  Rockies,  and  are  the  only  species  at  present  known 
to  breed  in  the  State  of  Colorado.  They  are  differen- 
tiated from  the  common  slate-colored  snowbird  by  their 
ash-gray  suits,  modestly  decorated  with  a  rust-colored 
patch  on  the  back. 

It  was  now  far  past  noon,  and  beginning  to  feel  weak 
with  hunger,  I  reluctantly  said  adieu  to  the  junco  and 
her  brood,  and  hurried  on  to  the  Halfway  House,  where 
a  luncheon  of  sandwiches,  pie  and  coffee  strengthened 
me  for  the  remainder  of  my  tramp  down  the  mountain 
to  Manitou.  That  was  a  walk  which  lingers  like  a 
Greek  legend  in  my  memory  on  account  of — well,  that 
is  the  story  that  remains  to  be  told. 

On  a  former  visit  to  the  Halfway  House  I  was  men- 
tally knocked  off  my  feet  by  several  glimpses  of  a  wood- 
pecker which  was  entirely  new  to  me,  and  of  whose 
existence  I  was  not  even  aware  until  this  gorgeous 
gentleman  hove  in  sight.  He  was  the  handsomest 
member  of  the  Picidce  family  I  have  ever  seen  —  his 
upper  parts  glossy  black,  some  portions  showing  a  bluish 
iridescence  ;  his  belly  rich  sulphur  yellow,  a  bright  red 
median  stripe  on  the  throat,  set  in  the  midst  of  the 
black,  looking  like  a  small  necktie;  two  white  stripes 
running  along  the  side  of  the  head,  and  a  large  white 
patch  covering  the   middle   and  greater   wing-coverts. 


76  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

Altogether,  an  odd  livery  for  a  woodpecker.  Silently 
he  swung  from  bole  to  bole  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
disappeared. 

Not  until  I  reached  my  room  in  Manitou  could  I  fix 
the  bird's  place  in  the  avicular  system.  By  consulting 
Coues's  Key  and  Professor  Cooke's  brochure  on  the  Birds 
of  Colorado,  I  found  this  quaintly  costumed  woodpecker 
to  be  Williamson's  sapsucker  (Sphyrapicus  thyroideus), 
known  only  in  the  western  part  of  the  United  States  from 
the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Pacific  coast.  I  now  lingered 
in  the  beautiful  pine  grove  suiTounding  the  Halfway 
House,  hoping  to  see  him  again,  but  he  did  not  appear, 
and  I  reluctantly  started  down  the  cog-wheel  track. 

As  I  was  turning  a  bend  in  the  road,  I  caught  sight 
of  a  mountain  chickadee  flitting  to  a  dead  snag  on  the 
slope  at  the  right,  the  next  moment  slipping  into  a 
small  hole  leading  inside.  I  climbed  up  to  the  shelf,  a 
small  level  nook  among  the  tall  pines  on  the  mountain 
side,  to  inspect  her  retreat,  for  it  was  the  first  nest  of  this 
interesting  species  that  I  found.  The  chickadee  flashed 
in  and  out  of  the  orifice,  carrying  food  to  her  little  ones, 
surreptitiously  executing  her  housewifely  duties.  The 
mountain  tit  seems  to  be  a  shy  and  quiet  little  body 
when  compared  with  the  common  black-cap  known  in 
the  East. 

While  watching  this  bird  from  my  place  of  conceal- 
ment, I  became  conscious  of  the  half-suppressed  chirping 


BALD  PEAKS  AND  GREEN  VALES    77 

of  a  woodpecker,  and,  to  my  intense  joy,  a  moment  later 
a  Williamson's  sapsucker  swung  to  a  pine  bole  a  little 
below  me  and  began  pecking  leisurely  and  with  assumed 
nonchalance  for  grubs  in  the  fissures  of  the  bark.  From 
my  hiding-place  behind  some  bushes  I  kept  my  eye  on 
the  handsome  creature.  An  artist  might  well  covet  the 
privilege  of  painting  this  elegant  bird  as  he  scales  the 
wall  of  a  pine  tree.  Presently  he  glided  to  a  snag  not 
more  than  a  rod  from  the  chickadee's  domicile,  and  then 
I  noticed  that  the  dead  bole  was  perforated  by  a  number 
of  woodpecker  holes,  into  one  of  which  the  sapsucker 
presently  slipped  with  the  tidbit  he  held  in  his  bill. 
The  doorway  was  almost  too  small  for  him,  obliging  him 
to  turn  slightly  sidewise  and  make  some  effort  to  effect 
an  entrance.  Fortune  had  treated  me  as  one  of  her 
favorites  :  I  had  discovered  the  nest  of  Williamson's 
sapsucker. 

But  still  another  surprise  was  in  store.  A  low,  dubi- 
ous chirping  was  heard,  and  then  the  female  ambled 
leisurely  to  the  snag  and  hitched  up  to  the  orifice.  She 
made  several  efforts  to  enter,  but  could  not  while  her 
spouse  was  within.  Presently  he  wormed  himself  out, 
whereupon  she  went  in,  and  remained  for  some  time. 
At  length  I  crept  to  the  snag  and  beat  against  it  with 
my  cane.  She  was  loath  to  leave  the  nest,  but  after  a 
little  while  decided  that  discretion  was  the  better  part  of 
valor.     When  she  came  out,  my  presence  so  near  her 


78  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

nursery  caused  her  not  a  little  agitation,  which  she  dis- 
played by  flinging  about  from  bole  to  bole  and  uttering 
a  nervous  chirp. 

As  to  costume,  the  male  and  the  female  had  little  in 
common.  Her  back  was  picturesquely  mottled  and 
barred  with  black  and  white,  her  head  light  brown,  her 
breast  decorated  with  a  large  black  patch,  and  her  other 
under  parts  yellow.  Had  the  couple  not  been  seen 
together  flitting  about  the  nest,  they  would  not  have 
been  regarded  as  mates,  so  differently  were  they  habited. 

Standing  before  the  doorway  of  the  nursery — it  was  not 
quite  so  high  as  my  head  —  I  could  plainly  hear  the 
chirping  of  the  youngsters  within.  Much  as  I  coveted 
the  sight  of  a  brood  of  this  rare  species,  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  break  down  the  walls  of  their  cottage  and  thus 
expose  them  to  the  claws  and  beaks  of  their  foes.  Even 
scientific  curiosity  must  be  restrained  by  considerations 
of  mercy. 

The  liege  lord  of  the  family  had  now  disappeared. 
Desirous  of  seeing  him  once  more,  I  hid  myself  in  a 
bush-clump  near  at  hand  and  awaited  his  return.  Pres- 
ently he  came  ambling  along  and  scrambled  into  the 
orifice,  turning  his  body  sidewise,  as  he  had  done  before. 
I  made  my  way  quietly  to  the  snag  and  tapped  upon  it 
with  my  cane,  but  he  did  not  come  out,  as  I  expected 
him  to  do.  Then  I  struck  the  snag  more  vigorously. 
No  result.     Then  I  whacked  the  bole-directly  in  the  rear 


BALD   PEAKS   AND  GREEN   VALES  79 

of  the  nest,  while  I  stood  close  at  one  side  watching  the 
doorway.  The  bird  came  to  the  orifice,  peeped  out, 
then,  seeing  me,  quickly  drew  back,  determined  not  to 
desert  his  brood  in  what  he  must  have  regarded  as  an 
emergency.  In  spite  of  all  my  pounding  and  coaxing 
and  feigned  scolding  —  and  I  kept  up  the  racket  for 
several  minutes  —  I  did  not  succeed  in  driving  the  pater 
familias  from  his  post  of  duty.  Once  he  apparently 
made  a  slight  effort  to  escape,  but  evidently  stuck  fast 
in  the  entrance,  and  so  dropped  back  and  would  not 
leave,  only  springing  up  to  the  door  and  peeping  out  at 
me  when  my  appeals  became  especially  vigorous.  It 
appeared  like  a  genuine  case  of  "  I  "'m  determined  to 
defend  my  children,  or  die  in  the  attempt ! " 

Meanwhile  the  mother  bird  was  flitting  about  in  an 
agitated  way,  uttering  piteous  cries  of  remonstrance 
and  entreaty.  Did  that  bandit  intend  to  rob  her  of 
both  her  husband  and  her  children  ?  It  was  useless,  if 
not  wanton,  to  hector  the  poor  creatures  any  longer,  even 
to  study  their  behavior  under  trying  circumstances; 
and  I  left  them  in  peace,  and  hurried  down  to  my  lodg- 
ings in  Manitou,  satisfied  with  the  results  of  my  day's 
ramble. 


BIRDS   OF  THE   ARID   PLAIxV 


Plate  III 


Lazuli  BimTixa   -  C/ja/iu.spiza  annr/ia 
(Upper  figure,  male;  lower,  female) 


BIRDS   OF  THE   ARID  PLAIN 

HAVING  explored  the  summit  of  Pike's  Peak 
and  part  of  its  southern  slope  down  to  the 
timber-line,  and  spent  several  delightful  days 
in  the  upper  valleys  of  the  mountains,  as  well  as  in 
exploring  several  canons,  the  rambler  was  desirous  of 
knowing  what  species  of  birds  reside  on  the  plain 
stretching  eastward  from  the  bases  of  the  towering 
ranges.  One  afternoon  in  the  latter  part  of  June,  I 
found  myself  in  a  straggling  village  about  forty  miles 
east  of  Colorado  Springs. 

On  looking  around,  I  was  discouraged,  and  almost 
wished  I  had  not  come ;  for  all  about  me  extended  the 
parched  and  treeless  plain,  with  only  here  and  there  a 
spot  that  had  a  cast  of  verdure,  and  even  that  was  of 
a  dull  and  sickly  hue.  Far  off  to  the  northeast  rose  a 
range  of  low  hills  sparsely  covered  with  scraggy  pines, 
but  they  were  at  least  ten  miles  away,  perhaps  twenty, 
and  had  almost  as  arid  an  aspect  as  that  of  the  plains 
themselves.  Only  one  small  cluster  of  deciduous  trees 
was  visible,  about  a  mile  up  a  shallow  valley  or  "  draw.*" 
Surely  this  was  a  most  unpromising  field  for  bird  study. 

83 


84 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 


__jr?*^.""*"'^""  Desert  Horned  Larks 

"  They  were  plentiful  in  this  parched  region  " 

If  I  had  only  been  content  to  remain  among  the  moun- 
tains, where,  even  though  the  climbing  was  difficult, 
there  were  brawling  brooks,  shady  woodlands,  and  green, 
copsy  vales  in  which  many  feathered  friends  had  lurked  ! 
But  wherever  the  bird-lover  chances  to  be,  his  mania 
leads  him  to  look  for  his  favorites,  and  he  is  seldom 
disappointed ;  rather,  he  is  often  delightfully  surprised. 
People  were  able  to  make  a  livelihood  here,  as  was 
proved  by  the  presence  of  the  village  and  a  few  scatter- 
ing dwellings  on  the  plain;  then  why  not  the  birds, 
which  are  as  thrifty  and  wise  in  many  ways  as  their 
human  relatives?  In  a  short  time  my  baggage  was 
stowed  in  a  safe  place,  and,  field-glass  in  hand,  I 
sallied  forth  for  my  first  jaunt  on  a  Colorado  plain. 
But,  hold !  what  were  these  active  little  birds,  hopping 
about  on  the  street  and  sipping  from  the  pool  by  the 
village  well  ?  They  were  the  desert  horned  larks,  so 
called  because  they  select  the  dry  plains  of  the  West 
as  their  dwelling  place.     They  are  interesting  birds. 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ARID   PLAIN  85 

The  fewer  trees  and  the  less  humidity,  provided  there 
is  a  spot  not  too  far  away  at  which  they  may  quench 
their  thirst  and  rinse  their  feathers,  the  better  they 
seem  to  be  pleased.  They  were  plentiful  in  this 
parched  region,  running  or  flying  cheerfully  before  me 
wherever  my  steps  were  bent.  I  could  not  help  won- 
dering how  many  thousands  of  them  —  and  millions, 
perhaps  —  had  taken  up  free  homesteads  on  the  seem- 
ingly limitless  plains  of  eastern  Colorado. 

Most  of  the  young  had  already  left  the  nest,  and 
were  flying  about  in  the  company  of  their  elders,  learn- 
ing the  fine  art  of  making  a  living  for  themselves  and 
evading  the  many  dangers  to  which  bird  flesh  is  heir. 
The  youngsters  could  readily  be  distinguished  from 
their  seniors  by  the  absence  of  distinct  black  markings 
on  throat,  chest,  and  forehead,  and  the  lighter  cast  of 
their  entire  plumage. 

Sometimes  these  birds  are  called  shore  larks;  but 
that  is  evidently  a  misnomer,  or  at  least  a  very  inapt 
name,  for  they  are  not  in  the  least  partial  to  the  sea- 
shore or  even  the  shores  of  lakes,  but  are  more  disposed 
to  take  up  their  residence  in  inland  and  comparatively 
dry  regions.  There  are  several  varieties,  all  bearing  a 
very  close  resemblance,  so  close,  indeed,  that  only  an 
expert  ornithologist  can  distinguish  them,  even  with 
the  birds  in  hand.  The  common  horned  lark  is  well 
known  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  United  States  as  a 


86  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

winter  resident,  while  in  the  middle  West,  Missouri, 
Kansas,  Nebraska,  etc.,  are  to  be  found  the  prairie 
homed  larks,  which,  as  their  name  indicates,  choose  the 
open  prairie  for  their  home.  The  desert  horned  larks 
are  tenants  exclusively  of  the  arid  plains,  mesas,  and 
mountain  parks  of  the  West.  There  is  still  another 
variety,  called  the  pallid  horned  lark,  which  spends  the 
winter  in  Colorado,  then  hies  himself  farther  north  in 
summer  to  rear  his  brood. 

As  I  pursued  my  walk,  one  of  these  birds  suddenly 
assumed  an  alert  attitude,  then  darted  into  the  air, 
mounting  up,  up,  up,  in  a  series  of  swift  leaps,  like 
"an  embodied  joy  whose  race  has  just  begun."  Up  he 
soared  until  he  could  no  longer  be  seen  with  the  naked 
eye,  and  even  through  my  field-glass  he  was  a  mere 
speck  against  the  blue  canopy,  and  yet,  high  as  he  had 
gone,  his  ditty  filtered  down  to  me  through  the  still, 
rarefied  atmosphere,  like  a  sifting  of  fine  sand.  His 
descent  was  a  grand  plunge,  made  with  the  swiftness 
of  an  Indian's  arrow,  his  head  bent  downward,  his 
wings  partly  folded,  and  his  tail  perked  upward  at 
precisely  the  proper  angle  to  make  a  rudder,  all  the 
various  organs  so  finely  adjusted  as  to  convert  him  into 
a  perfectly  dirigible  parachute.  Swift  as  his  descent 
was,  he  alighted  on  the  ground  as  lightly  as  a  tuft  of 
down.  It  was  the  poetry  of  motion.  One  or  two 
writers  have  insisted  that  the  horned  lark's  empyrean 


BIRDS   OF  THE   ARID   PLAIN  87 

song  compares  favorably  with  that  of  the  European 
skylark  ;  but,  loyal  and  patriotic  an  American  as  we 
are,  honesty  compels  us  to  concede  that  our  bird's 
voice  is  much  feebler  and  less  musical  than  that  of  his 
celebrated  relative  across  the  sea.  It  sounds  like  the 
unmelodious  clicking  of  pebbles,  while  the  song  of  the 
skylark  is  loud,  clear,  and  ringing. 

Our  birds  of  the  plain  find  insects  to  their  taste  in 
the  short  grass  which  carpets  the  land  with  greenish  or 
olive  gray.  The  following  morning  a  mother  lark  was 
seen  gathering  insects  and  holding  them  in  her  bill  —  a 
sure  sign  of  fledglings  in  the  near  neighborhood.  I 
decided  to  watch  her,  and,  if  possible,  find  her  bantlings. 
It  required  not  a  little  patience,  for  she  was  wary  and 
the  sun  poured  down  a  flood  of  almost  blistering  heat. 
This  way  and  that  she  scurried  over  the  ground,  now 
picking  up  an  insect  and  adding  it  to  the  store  already 
in  her  bill,  and  now  standing  almost  erect  to  eye  me 
narrowly  and  with  some  suspicion.  At  length  she 
seemed  to  settle  down  for  a  moment  upon  a  particular 
spot,  and  when  I  looked  again  with  my  glass,  her  beak 
was  empty.  I  examined  every  inch  of  ground,  as  I 
thought,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  place  where  she 
had  stopped,  but  could  find  neither  nest  nor  nestlings. 

Again  I  turned  my  attention  to  the  mother  bird, 
which  meanwhile  had  gathered  another  bunch  of  insects 
and  was  hopping  about  with  them  through  the  croppy 


88 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 


grass,  now  and  then  adding  to  her  accumulation  until 
her  mouth  was  full.  For  a  long  time  she  zigzagged 
about,  going  by  provoking  fits  and  starts.  At  length 
fortune  favored  me,  for  through  my  levelled  glass  I 
suddenly  caught  sight  of  a  small,  grayish-looking  ball 
hopping  and  tumbling  from  a  cactus  clump  toward  the 
mother  bird,  who  jabbed  the  contents  of  her  bill  into 
a  small,  open  mouth.  I  followed  a  bee-line  to  the 
spot,  and  actually  had  to  scan  the  ground  sharply  for 
a  few  moments  before  I  could  distinguish  the  youngster 

from  its    surroundings,    for   it 
had  squatted  flat,  its  gray 
f;        and  white  plumage  har- 
monizing perfectly  with 
the  grayish  desert  grass. 
It  was  a  dear  little 
>    thing,  and  did  not  try  to 
escape,  although  I  took  it  up 
in  my  hand  and  stroked 
its    downy  back    again  and 
Sometimes  it  closed  its  eyes 


agam 

as  if  it  were  sleepy.     When  I  placed 

■  It  was  a  dear  it  on  the  ground,  it  hopped  away  a  few  inches,  and 

httle  thing"    ^^  accident  punctured  the  fleshy   corner  of  its  mouth 

with  a  sharp  cactus  thorn,  and  had  to  jerk  itself  loose, 

bringing  the  blood  from  the  lacerated  part.     Meanwhile 

the  mother  lark  went  calmly  about  her  household  duties, 


BIRDS  OF  THE  ARID   PLAIN  89 

merely  keeping  a  watchful  eye  on  the  human  meddler, 
and  making  no  outcry  when  she  saw  her  infant  in  my 
possession.  I  may  have  been  persona  rwn  grata^  but,  if  so, 
she  did  not  express  her  feeling.  This  was  the  youngest 
horned  lark  seen  by  me  in  my  rambles  on  the  plains. 

Perhaps  the  reader  will  care  to  know  something 
about  the  winter  habits  of  these  birds.  They  do  not 
spend  the  season  of  cold  and  storm  in  the  mountains, 
not  even  those  that  breed  there,  for  the  snow  is  very 
deep  and  the  tempests  especially  fierce.  Many  of  them, 
however,  remain  in  the  foothills  and  on  the  mesas  and 
plains,  where  they  find  plenty  of  seeds  and  berries  for 
their  sustenance,  unless  the  weather  chances  to  be 
unusually  severe.  One  winter,  not  long  ago,  the  snow 
continued  to  lie  much  longer  than  usual,  cutting  off 
the  natural  food  supply  of  the  larks.  What  regimen 
did  they  adopt  in  that  exigency  ?  They  simply  went 
to  town.  Many  of  the  kindly  disposed  citizens  of  Colo- 
rado Springs  scattered  crumbs  and  millet  seeds  on  the 
streets  and  lawns,  and  of  this  supply  the  little  visitors 
ate  greedily,  becoming  quite  tame.  As  soon,  however, 
as  the  snow  disappeared  they  took  their  departure,  not 
even  stopping  to  say  thanks  or  adieu ;  although  we 
may  take  it  for  granted  that  they  felt  grateful  for 
favors  bestowed. 

Besides  the  horned  larks,  many  other  birds  were 
found  on   the   plain.     Next    in    abundance    were    the 


90  BIRDS  OF  THE   ROCKIES 

western  meadow-larks.  Persons  who  live  in  the  East 
and  are  familiar  with  the  songs  of  the  common  mead- 
ow-lark, should  hear  the  vocal  performances  of  the 
westerners.  The  first  time  I  heard  one  of  them,  the 
minstrelsy  was  so  strange  to  my  ear,  so  different  from 
anything  I  had  ever  heard,  I  was  thrown  into  an 
ecstasy  of  delight,  and  could  not  imagine  from  what 
kind  of  bird  larynx  so  quaint  a  medley  could  emanate. 
The  song  opened  with  a  loud,  fine,  piercing  whistle,  and 
ended  with  an  abrupt  staccato  gurgle  much  lower  in  the 
musical  staff,  sounding  precisely  as  if  the  soloist's  per- 
formance had  been  suddenly  choked  off  by  the  rising  of 
water  in  the  windpipe.  It  was  something  after  the 
order  of  the  purple  martin's  melodious  sputter,  only 
the  tones  were  richer  and  fuller  and  the  music  better 
defined,  as  became  a  genuine  oscine.  His  sudden  and 
emphatic  cessation  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  was  in 
a  petulant  mood,  perhaps  impatient  with  the  intruder, 
or  angry  with  a  rival  songster. 

Afterwards  I  heard  him  —  or,  rather,  one  of  his 
brothers  —  sing  arias  so  surpassingly  sweet  that  I  voted 
him  the  master  minstrel  of  the  western  plains,  prairies, 
and  meadows.  One  evening  as  I  was  returning  to  Colo- 
rado Springs  from  a  long  tramp  through  one  of  the 
canons  of  the  mountains,  a  western  meadow-lark  sat 
on  a  small  tree  and  sang  six  different  tunes  within 
the  space  of  a  few  minutes.     Two  of  them    were   so 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ARID   PLAIN  91 

exquisite  and  unique  that  I  involuntarily  sprang  to 
my  feet  with  a  cry  of  delight.  There  he  sat  in  the 
lengthening  shadows  of  Cheyenne  Mountain,  the 
champion  phrase-fluter  of  the  irrigated  meadow  in 
which  he  and  a  number  of  his  comrades  had  found 
a   summer   home. 

On  the  plain,  at  the  time  of  my  visit,  the  meadow- 
larks  were  not  quite  so  tuneful,  for  here  the  seasons  are 
somewhat  earlier  than  in  the  proximity  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  the  time  of  courtship  and  incubation  was 
over.  Still,  they  sang  enough  to  prove  themselves 
members  of  a  gifted  musical  family.  Observers  in  the 
East  will  remember  the  sputtering  call  of  the  eastern 
larks  when  they  are  alarmed  or  their  suspicions  are 
aroused.  The  western  larks  do  not  utter  alarums  of 
that  kind,  but  a  harsh  "chack""  instead,  very  similar 
to  the  call  of  the  grackles.  The  nesting  habits  of  the 
eastern  and  western  species  are  the  same,  their  domiciles 
being  placed  on  the  ground  amid  the  grass,  often 
prettily  arched  over  in  the  rear  and  made  snug  and 
neat. 

It  must  not  be  thought,  because  my  monograph  on 
the  western  larks  is  included  in  this  chapter,  that  they 
dwell  exclusively  on  the  arid  plain.  No;  they  revel 
likewise  in  the  areas  of  verdure  bordering  the  streams, 
in  the  irrigated  fields  and  meadows,  and  in  the  watered 
portions  of  the  upper  mountain  parks. 


92  BIRDS    OF   THE   ROCKIES 

An  interesting  question  is  the  following  :  Are  the 
eastern  and  western  meadow-larks  distinct  species,  or 
only  varieties  somewhat  specialized  by  differences  of 
locality  and  environment  ?  It  is  a  problem  over  which 
the  scientific  professors  have  had  not  a  little  disputation. 
My  own  opinion  is  that  they  are  distinct  species  and  do 
not  cohabit,  and  the  conviction  is  based  on  some  special 
investigations,  though  not  of  the  kind  that  are  made 
with  the  birds  in  hand.  It  has  been  my  privilege  to 
study  both  forms  in  the  field.  In  the  first  place,  their 
vocal  exhibitions  are  very  different,  so  much  so  as  to 
indicate  a  marked  diversity  in  the  organic  structure  of 
their  larynxes.  Much  as  I  have  listened  to  their  min- 
strelsy, I  have  never  known  one  kind  to  borrow  from 
the  musical  repertory  of  the  other.  True,  there  are 
strains  in  the  arias  of  the  westerners  that  closely  re- 
semble the  clear,  liquid  whistle  of  the  eastern  larks,  but 
they  occur  right  in  the  midst  of  the  song  and  are  part 
and  parcel  of  it,  and  therefore  afford  no  evidence  of 
mimicry  or  amalgamation.  Even  the  trills  of  the  grass- 
finch  and  the  song-sparrow  have  points  of  similarity; 
does  that  prove  that  they  borrow  from  each  other,  or 
that  espousals  sometimes  occur  between  the  two  species  ? 

The  habiliments  of  the  two  forms  of  larks  are  more 
divergent  than  would  appear  at  first  blush.  Above,  the 
coloration  of  neglecta  (the  western)  is  paler  and  grayer 
than  that  of  magna,  the  black  markings  being  less  con- 


BIRDS   OF  THE  ARID   PLAIN  93 

spicuous,  and  those  on  the  tertials  and  middle  tail- 
feathers  being  arranged  in  narrow,  isolated  bars,  and 
not  connected  along  the  shaft.  While  the  flanks  and 
under  tail-coverts  of  magna  are  distinctly  washed  with 
buff,  those  of  negleda  are  white,  very  faintly  tinged 
with  buff,  if  at  all.  The  yellow  of  the  throat  of  the 
eastern  form  does  not  spread  out  laterally  over  the 
malar  region,  as  does  that  of  the  western  lark.  All 
of  which  tends  to  prove  that  the  two  forms  are  distinct. 
Early  in  the  spring  of  1 901  the  writer  took  a  trip  to 
Oklahoma  in  the  interest  of  bird-study,  and  found  both 
kinds  of  meadow-larks  extremely  abundant  and  lavish 
of  their  melodies  on  the  fertile  prairies.  He  decided  to 
carry  on  a  little  original  investigation  in  the  field  of 
inquiry  now  under  discussion.  One  day,  in  a  draw  of 
the  prairie,  he  noticed  a  western  meadow-lark  which  was 
unusually  lyrical,  having  the  skill  of  a  past-master  in  the 
art  of  trilling  and  gurgling  and  fluting.  Again  and 
again  I  went  to  the  place,  on  the  same  day  and  on  dif- 
ferent days,  and  invariably  found  the  westerner  there, 
perching  on  the  fence  or  a  weed-stem,  and  greeting  me 
with  his  exultant  lays.  But,  mark:  no  eastern  lark 
ever  intruded  on  his  preserve.  In  other  and  more 
distant  parts  of  the  broad  field  the  easterners  were 
blowing  their  piccolos,  but  they  did  not  encroach  on 
the  domain  of  the  lyrical  westerner,  who,  with  his  mate 
—  now  on  her  nest  in  the  grass  —  had  evidently  jumped 


94  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

his  claim  and  held  it  with  a  high  hand.  In  many  other 
places  in  Oklahoma  and  Kansas  where  both  species 
dwell,  I  have  noticed  the  same  interesting  fact  —  that 
in  the  breeding  season  each  form  selects  a  special  pre- 
cinct, into  which  the  other  form  does  not  intrude. 
They  perhaps  put  up  some  kind  of  trespass  sign. 
These  observations  have  all  but  convinced  me  that  S. 
magna  and  S.  neglecta  are  distinct  species,  and  avoid 
getting  mixed  up  in  their  family  affairs. 

Nor  is  that  all.  While  both  forms  dwell  on  the  vast 
prairies  of  Oklahoma,  Kansas,  and  Nebraska,  yet,  as  you 
travel  eastward,  the  western  larks  gradually  diminish 
in  number  until  at  length  they  entirely  disappear; 
whereas,  if  you  journey  westward,  the  precise  opposite 
occurs.  I  have  never  heard  neglecta  east  of  the  Mis- 
souri River ,^  nor  magna  on  the  plains  of  Colorado. 
Therefore  the  conclusion  is  almost  forced  upon  the 
observer  that  there  are  structural  and  organic  differences 
between  the  two  forms. 

After  the  foregoing  deductions  had  been  reached,  the 
writer  bethought  him  of  consulting  Ridgway's  Man- 
ual on  the  subject,  and  was  gratified  to  find  his  views 

1  He  sometimes  ventures,  though  sparingly,  as  far  east  as  Illinois 
and  Wisconsin  ;  still  my  statement  is  true  —  I  have  never  heard 
the  western  lark  even  in  the  bottoms  and  meadows  of  the  broad 
valley  east  of  the  Missouri  River,  while,  one  spring  morning,  I  did 
hear  one  of  these  birds  fluting  in  the  top  of  a  cottonwood  tree  in 
my  yard  on  the  high  western  bluff  of  that  stream. 


BIRDS  OF  THE  ARID   PLAIN  95 

corroborated   by  a  footnote  answering  to  an  asterisk 
affixed  to  the  name  of  the  western  lark: 

"Without  much  doubt  a  distinct  species.  The  occur- 
rence of  both  S.  neglecta  and  S.  magna  together  in  many 
portions  of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  each  in  its  typical  style 
(the  ranges  of  the  two  overlapping,  in  fact,  for  a  distance 
of  several  hundred  miles),  taken  together  with  the  ex- 
cessive rarity  of  intermediate  specimens  and  the  univer- 
sally attested  radical  difference  in  their  notes,  are  facts 
wholly  incompatible  with  the  theory  of  their  being  merely 
geographical  races  of  the  same  species." 

This  has  been  a  long  excursus,  and  we  must  get  back 
to  our  jaunt  on  the  plain.  While  I  was  engaged  in 
watching  the  birds  already  named,  my  ear  was  greeted 
by  a  loud,  clear,  bell-like  call ;  and,  on  looking  in  the 
direction  from  which  it  came,  I  observed  a  bird  hover- 
ing over  a  ploughed  field  not  far  away,  and  then  descend- 
ing with  graceful,  poising  flight  to  the  ground.  It 
proved  to  be  the  Arkansas  flycatcher,  a  large,  elegant 
bird  that  is  restricted  to  the  West.  I  had  never  seen 
this  species.  Nothing  like  him  is  known  in  the  East, 
the  crested  flycatcher  being  most  nearly  a  copy  of  him, 
although  the  manners  of  the  two  birds  are  quite  unlike. 
The  body  of  the  western  bird  is  as  large  as  that  of  the 
robin,  and  he  must  be  considerably  longer  from  tip  of 
beak  to  tip  of  tail.    He  is  a  fine-looking  fellow,  present- 


96  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

ing  a  handsome  picture  as  he  stands  on  a  weed-stalk  or 
a  fence-post,  his  yellow  jacket  gleaming  in  the  sun.  He 
is  the  possessor  of  a  clear,  musical  voice,  and  if  he  had 
the  vocal  organs  of  some  of  the  oscines,  he  certainly  would 
be  one  of  the  best  feathered  lyrists  of  America.  Un- 
fortunately he  is  able  to  do  nothing  but  chirp  and 
chatter,  although  he  puts  not  a  little  music  into  his 
simple  vocal  exercises. 

It  was  surprising  to  note  on  how  slender  a  weed-stalk 
so  large  a  bird  was  able  to  perch.  There  being  few  trees 
and  fences  in  this  region,  he  has  doubtless  gained  ex- 
pertness  through  practice  in  the  art  of  securing  a  foot- 
hold on  the  tops  of  the  weed-stems.  Some  of  the  weeds 
on  which  he  stood  with  perfect  ease  and  grace  were  ex- 
tremely lithe  and  flexible  and  almost  devoid  of  branches. 

But  what  was  the  cause  of  this  particular  bird's  in- 
tense solicitude  ?  It  was  obvious  there  was  a  nest  in  the 
neighborhood.  As  I  sought  in  the  grass  and  weed- 
clumps,  he  uttered  his  piercing  calls  of  protest  and 
circled  and  hovered  overhead  like  a  red-winged  black- 
bird. Suddenly  the  thought  occurred  to  me  that  the 
flycatchers  of  my  acquaintance  do  not  nest  on  the 
ground,  but  on  trees.  I  looked  around,  and,  sure 
enough,  in  the  shallow  hollow  below  me  stood  a  soli- 
tary willow  tree  not  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  feet 
high,  the  only  tree  to  be  seen  within  a  mile.  And  that 
lone  tree  on  the  plain  was  occupied  by  the  flycatcher 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ARID   PLAIN  97 

and  his  mate  for  a  nesting  place.  In  a  crotch  the  gray 
cottage  was  set,  containing  three  callow  babies  and  one 
beautifully  mottled  egg. 

In  another  fork  of  the  same  small  tree  a  pair  of  king- 
birds —  the  same  species  as  our  well-known  eastern  bee- 
martins —  had  built  their  nest,  in  the  downy  cup  of 
which  lay  four  eggs  similarly  decorated  with  brown 
spots.  The  birds  now  all  circled  overhead  and  joined 
in  an  earnest  plea  with  me  not  to  destroy  their  homes 
and  little  ones,  and  I  hurriedly  climbed  down  from  the 
tree  to  relieve  their  agitation,  stopping  only  a  moment 
to  examine  the  twine  plaited  into  the  felted  nests  of  the 
kingbirds.  The  willow  sapling  contained  also  the  nest 
of  a  turtle  dove. 

"  If  there  are  three  nests  in  this  small  tree,  there  may 
be  a  large  number  in  the  cluster  of  trees  beyond  the 
swell  about  a  mile  away,""  I  mused,  and  forthwith  made 
haste  to  go  to  the  place  indicated.  I  was  not  disap- 
pointed. Had  the  effort  been  made,  I  am  sure  two 
score  of  nests  might  have  been  found  in  these  trees,  for 
they  were  liberally  decorated  with  bird  cots  and  ham- 
mocks. Most  of  these  were  kingbirds'  and  Arkansas 
flycatchers'  nests,  but  there  were  others  as  well.  On 
one  small  limb  there  were  four  of  the  dangling  nests  of 
Bullock's  orioles,  one  of  them  fresh,  the  rest  more  or 
less  weather  beaten,  proving  that  this  bird  had  been 
rearing  broods  here  for  a  number  of  seasons. 


98  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

Whose  song  was  this  ringing  from  one  of  the  larger 
trees  a  Httle  farther  down  the  glade  ?  I  could  scarcely 
believe  the  testimony  of  my  ears  and  eyes,  yet  there 
could  be  no  mistake  —  it  was  the  vivacious  mimicry  of 
the  mocking-bird,  which  had  travelled  far  across  the 
plain  to  this  solitary  clump  of  trees  to  find  singing 
perches  and  a  site  for  his  nests.  He  piped  his  musical 
miscellany  with  as  much  good-cheer  as  if  he  were  dwell- 
ing in  the  neighborhood  of  some  embowered  cottage  in 
Dixie-land.  In  suitable  localities  on  the  plains  of  Col- 
orado the  mockers  were  found  to  be  quite  plentiful,  but 
none  were  seen  among  the  mountains. 

A  network  of  twigs  and  vines  in  one  of  the  small 
willows  afforded  a  support  and  partial  covert  for  the 
nest  of  a  pair  of  white-rumped  shrikes.  It  contained 
six  thickly  speckled  eggs,  and  was  the  first  nest  of  this 
species  I  had  ever  found.  The  same  hollow,  —  if  so 
shallow  a  dip  in  the  plain  can  be  called  a  hollow,  — 
was  selected  as  the  home  of  several  pairs  of  red-winged 
and  Brewer's  blackbirds,  which  built  their  grassy  cots 
in  the  low  bushes  of  a  slightly  boggy  spot,  where  a 
feeble  spring  oozed  from  the  ground.  It  was  a  special 
pleasure  to  find  a  green-tailed  towhee  in  the  copse  of 
the  draw,  for  I  had  supposed  that  he  always  hugged 
close  to  the  steep  mountain  sides. 

A  walk  before  breakfast  the  next  morning  added  sev- 
eral more  avian  species  to  my  roll.     To  my  surprise,  a 


BIRDS  OF  THE  ARID   PLAIN  99 

pair  of  mountain  bluebirds  had  chosen  the  village  for 
their  summer  residence,  and  were  building  a  nest  in 
the  coupler  of  a  freight  car  standing  on  a  side  track. 
The  domicile  was  almost  completed,  and  I  could  not 
help  feeling  sorry  for  the  pretty,  innocent  couple,  at 
the  thought  that  the  car  would  soon  be  rolling  hun- 
dreds of  miles  away,  and  all  their  loving  toil  would  go 
for  naught.  Bluebirds  had  previously  been  seen  at  the 
timber-line  among  the  mountains,  and  here  was  a  pair 
forty  miles  out  on  the  plain  —  quite  a  range  for  this 
species,  both  longitudinally  and  vertically. 

During  the  forenoon  the  following  birds  were  ob- 
served :  A  family  of  juvenile  Arkansas  flycatchers, 
which  were  being  fed  by  their  parents ;  a  half-dozen  or 
more  western  grassfinches,  trilling  the  same  pensive 
tunes  as  their  eastern  half-brothers ;  a  small,  long-tailed 
sparrow,  which  I  could  not  identify  at  the  time,  but 
which  I  now  feel  certain  was  Lincoln's  sparrow  ;  these, 
with  a  large  marsh-harrier  and  a  colony  of  cliff-swal- 
lows, completed  my  bird  catalogue  at  this  place.  It 
may  not  be  amiss  to  add  that  several  jack-rabbits  went 
skipping  over  the  swells ;  that  many  families  of  prairie 
dogs  were  visited,  and  that  a  coyotte  galloped  lightly 
across  the  plain,  stopping  and  looking  back  occasionally 
to  see  whether  he  were  being  pursued. 

It  was  no  difficult  task  to  study  the  birds  on  the 
plain.    Having  few  hiding-places  in  a  locality  almost  des- 


100 


BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 


titute  of  trees  and  bushes,  where  even  the  grass  was  too 
short  to  afford  a  covert,  they  naturally  felt  little  fear  of 
man,  and  hence  were  easily  approached.  Their  cousins 
residing  in  the  mountains  were,  as  a  rule,  provokingly 
wary.  The  number  of  birds  that  had  pre-empted  home- 
steads on  the  treeless  wastes  was  indeed  a  gratifying 
surprise,  and  I  went  back  to  the  mountains  refreshed 
by  the  pleasant  change  my  brief  •^  excursion 

upon  the  plains  had  afforded  _^       me. 


Coyotte 


"  Looking  back  to  see  whether  he  were  being  'pursued  " 


A  PRETTY  HUMMER 


HUMMER 

HERE  do  you  suppose  I  got  my  first 
I  m/  m/    I  glimpse  of  the  mite  in  feathers  called 

X>  ^     ^      I  the  broad-tailed  humming-bird  ?     It 

jW  was  in  a  green  bower  in  the  Rocky  Mountains 
■^    in  plain  sight  of  the  towering  summit  of  Pike'*s 
I     Peak,    which    seemed   almost   to   be    standing 
^F  guard  over  the  place.     Two  brawling  mountain 
Jw       brooks  met  here,  and,  joining  their  forces,  went 
Mf    with  increased  speed  and  gurgle  down  the  glades  and 
gorges.     As  they    sped    through    this   ravine,  they 
slightly  overflowed  their  banks,  making  a  boggy  area 
of  about  an  acre  as  green  as  green  could  be ;  and  here 
amid  the  grass  and  bushes  a  number  of  birds  found  a 
pleasant  summer  home,  among  them  the  dainty  hummer. 
From  the  snowdi-ifts,  still  to  be  seen  in  the  sheltered 
gorges   of  Pike's   Peak,  the  breezes  would   frequently 
blow  down  into  the  nook  with  a  freshness  that  stimu- 
lated like  wine  with  no  danger  of  intoxicating ;   and 
it   was  no   wonder   that  the  white-crowned   sparrows, 

103 


ONE   OF   THE  SEVEN  LAKES 

PiKE'S  Peak  shows  dimly  in  the  background,  more  plainly  in 
the  reflection.  Viewed  from  the  peak,  the  lakes  sparkle  like 
opaline  gems  in  the  sun.  The  waters  are  so  clear  that  an  in- 
verted world  is  seen  in  their  transparent  depths.  The  valley 
is  an  elysium  for  many  kinds  of  birds,  most  of  them  described 
in  the  text.  The  white-crowned  sparrows  love  the  shores  of 
these  beautiful  lakes,  which  mirror  the  blithe  forms  of  the  birds. 
The  pine  forests  of  the  mountain  sides  are  vocal  with  the 
refrains  of  the  hermit  thrushes. 


106  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

Lincoln's  sparrows,  the  robins  and  wrens,  and  several 
other  species,  found  in  this  spot  a  pleasant  place  to 
live.  One  of  the  narrow  valleys  led  directly  up  to  the 
base  of  the  massive  cone  of  the  Peak,  its  stream  fed  by 
the  snow-fields  shining  in  the  sun.  Going  around  by 
the  valley  of  Seven  Lakes,  I  had  walked  down  from  the 
summit,  but  nowhere  had  I  seen  the  tiny  hummer  until 
I  reached  the  green  nook  just  described.  Still,  he 
sometimes  ascends  to  an  elevation  of  eleven  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

Our  feathered  dot  is  gorgeous  with  his  metallic  green 
upper  parts,  bordered  on  the  tail  with  purplish  black, 
his  white  or  grayish  under  parts,  and  his  gorget  of 
purple  which  gleams  in  bright,  varying  tints  in  the 
sun.  He  closely  resembles  our  common  ruby-throated 
humming-bird,  whose  gorget  is  intense  crimson  instead 
of  purple,  and  who  does  not  venture  into  the  Rocky 
Mountain  region,  but  dwells  exclusively  in  the  eastern 
part  of  North  America.  It  is  a  little  strange  that  the 
eastern  part  of  our  country  attracts  only  one  species  of 
the  large  hummer  family,  while  the  western  portion, 
including  the  Rocky  Mountain  region,  can  boast  of 
at  least  seventeen  different  kinds  as  summer  residents  or 
visitors. 

My  attention  was  first  directed  to  the  broad-tailed 
hummer  by  seeing  him  darting  about  in  the  air  with 
the  swiftness  of  an  arrow,  sipping  honey  from  the  flower 


A   PRETTY   HUMMER  107 

cups,  and  then  flying  to  the  twigs  of  a  dead  tree  that 
stood  in  the  marsh.  There  he  sat,  turning  his  head 
this  way  and  that,  and  watching  me  with  his  keen 
httle  eyes.  It  was  plain  he  did  not  trust  me,  and 
therefore  resented  my  presence.  Though  an  unwel- 
come guest,  I  prolonged  my  call  for  several  hours,  dur- 
ing which  I  made  many  heroic  but  vain  attempts  to 
find  his  nest. 

But  what  was  the  meaning  of  a  sharp,  insect-like 
buzzing  that  fell  at  intervals  on  my  ear?  Presently 
I  succeeded  in  tracing  the  sound  to  the  hummer,  which 
utters  it  whenever  he  darts  from  his  perch  and  back 
again,  especially  if  there  is  a  spectator  or  a  rival  near 
at  hand,  for  whom  he  seems  in  this  way  to  express  his 
contempt.  It  is  a  vocal  sound,  or,  at  least,  it  comes 
from  his  throat,  and  is  much  louder  and  sharper  than 
the  susurrus  produced  by  the  rapid  movement  of  his 
wings.  This  I  ascertain  by  hearing  both  the  sounds  at 
the  same  time. 

But  the  oddest  prank  which  this  hummer  performs  is 
to  dart  up  in  the  air,  and  then  down,  almost  striking  a 
bush  or  a  clump  of  grass  at  each  descent,  repeating  this 
feat  a  number  of  times  with  a  swiftness  that  the  eye 
can  scarcely  follow.  Having  done  this,  he  will  swing  up 
into  the  air  so  far  that  you  can  scarcely  see  him  with 
the  naked  eye ;  the  next  moment  he  will  drop  into  view, 
poise  in  mid-air  seventy-five  or  a  hundred  feet  above 


108  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

your  head,  supporting  himself  by  a  swift  motion  of  the 
wings,  and  simply  hitching  to  right  and  left  in  short 
arcs,  as  if  he  were  fixed  on  a  pivot,  sometimes  mean- 
while whirling  clear  around.  There  he  hangs  on  his 
invisible  axis  until  you  grow  tired  watching  him,  and 
then  he  darts  to  his  favorite  perch  on  the  dead  tree. 
No  doubt  John  Vance  Cheney  had  in  mind  another 
species  when  he  composed  the  following  metrical  de- 
scription, but  it  aptly  characterized  the  volatile  broad- 
tail as  well : 

*'  Voyager  on  golden  air. 
Type  of  all  that 's  fleet  and  fair. 
Incarnate  gem, 
Live  diadem. 

Bird-beam  of  the  summer  day,  — 
Whither  on  your  sunny  way  ? 


Stay,  forget  lost  Paradise, 
Star-bird  fallen  from  happy  skies.' 


After  that  first  meeting  the  broad-tailed  hummers 
were  frequently  seen  in  my  rambles  among  the  Rockies. 
In  some  places  there  were  small  colonies  of  them.  They 
did  not  always  dwell  together  in  harmony,  but  often 
pursued  one  another  like  tiny  furies,  with  a  loud  z-z-z- 
zip  that  meant  defiance  and  war.  The  swiftness  of 
their  movements  often  excited  my  wonder,  and  it  was 
difficult  to  see  how  they  kept  from  impaling  themselves 
on  thorns  or  snags,  so  reckless  were  their  lightning-like 


A   PRETTY   HUMMER  109 

passages  through  the  bushes  and  trees.  When  four  or 
five  of  them  were  found  in  one  place,  they  would  fairly 
thread  the  air  with  green  and  purple  as  they  described 
their  circles  and  loops  and  festoons  with  a  rapidity  that 
fairly  made  my  head  whirl.  At  one  place  several  of 
them  grew  very  bold,  dashing  at  me  or  wheeling  around 
my  head,  coming  so  close  that  I  could  hear  the  susurrus 
of  their  wings  as  well  as  the  sharp,  challenging  buzz 
from  their  throats. 

Perhaps  it  would  interest  you  to  know  where  the 
rambler  found  these  tiny  hummers.  They  were  never 
in  the  dark  canons  and  gorges,  nor  in  the  ravines  that 
were  heavily  wooded  with  pine,  but  in  the  open,  sun- 
shiny glades  and  valleys,  where  there  were  green  grass 
and  bright  flowers.  In  the  upper  part  of  both  North 
and  South  Cheyenne  Canons  they  were  plentiful,  al- 
though they  avoided  the  most  scenic  parts  of  these 
wonderful  mountain  gorges.  Another  place  where 
they  found  a  pleasant  summer  home  was  in  a  green 
pocket  of  the  mountain  above  Red  Cliff,  a  village  on 
the  western  side  of  the  great  range.  On  descending 
the  mountains  to  the  town  of  Glenwood,  I  did  not  find 
them,  and  therefore  am  disposed  to  think  that  in  the 
breeding  season  they  do  not  choose  to  dwell  in  too  low 
or  too  high  an  altitude,  but  seek  suitable  places  at  an 
elevation  of  from  seven  thousand  to  nine  thousand 
feet. 


SUMMIT  OF  PIKES  PEAK 

Only  a  small  portion  of  the  peak  is  shown  in  the  view. 
The  comparatively  level  area  referred  to  in  the  text  lies 
back  of  the  signal  station  on  the  crest.  At  a  garbage  heap 
near  the  building  a  flock  of  leucostictes  were  seen,  and  the  writer 
was  told  that  they  came  there  regularly  to  feed.  From  this 
sublime  height  the  American  pipits  rise  on  resilient  wings  hun- 
dreds of  feet  into  the  air  until  they  disappear  in  the  cerulean 
depths  of  the  sky,  sin^ng  all  the  wliile  at  "  heaven  s  gate." 


112  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

One  day,  while  staving  at  Buena  Vista,  Colorado,  I 
hired  a  saddle-horse  and  rode  to  Cottonwood  Lake,  twelve 
miles  away,  among  the  rugged  mountains.  The  valley 
is  wide  enough  here  to  admit  of  a  good  deal  of  sun- 
shine, and  therefore  flowers  studded  the  ground  in  places. 
It  was  here  I  saw  the  only  female  broad-tailed  hummer 
that  was  met  with  in  my  rambles  in  the  Rockies.  She 
was  flitting  among  the  flowers,  and  did  not  make  the 
buzzing  sound  that  the  males  produce  wherever  found. 
She  was  not  clad  so  elegantly  as  were  her  masculine 
relatives,  for  the  throat-patch  was  white  instead  of 
purple,  and  the  green  on  her  back  did  not  gleam 
so  brightly.  But,  oddly  enough,  her  sides  and  under 
tail-coverts  were  stained  with  a  rufous  tint  —  a  color 
that  does  not  appear  at  all  in  the  costume  of  the 
male. 

A  curious  habit  of  these  hummers  is  worth  describ- 
ing. The  males  remain  in  the  breeding  haunts  until 
the  young  are  out  of  the  nest  and  are  beginning  to  be 
able  to  shift  for  themselves.  Then  the  papas  begin  to 
disappear,  and  in  about  ten  days  all  have  gone,  leaving 
the  mothers  and  the  youngsters  to  tarry  about  the  sum- 
mer home  until  the  latter  are  strong  enough  to  make 
the  journey  to  some  resort  lower  in  the  mountains  or 
farther  south.  The  reason  the  males  do  this  is  perhaps 
evident  enough,  for  at  a  certain  date  the  flowers  upon 
whose  sweets  the  birds  largely  subsist  begin  to  grow 


A   PRETTY   HUMMER  113 

scant,  and  so  if  they   remained  there    would   not   be 
enough  for  all. 

In  the  San  Francisco  Mountains  of  Arizona,  Doctor 
Merriaiii  found  the  broad-tails  very  abundant  in  the 
l)alsam  timber  and  the  upper  part  of  the  pine  belt, 
where  they  breed  in  the  latter  part  of  July  ;  after  which 
they  remain  in  that  region  until  the  middle  of  Sep- 
tember, even  though  the  weather  often  becomes  quite 
frosty  at  night.  At  break  of  day,  in  spite  of  the  cold, 
they  will  gather  in  large  flocks  at  some  spring  to  drink 
and  bathe.  Doctor  Merriam  says  about  them  at  such 
times : 

"They  were  like  swarms  of  bees,  buzzing  about  one's 
head  and  darting  to  and  fro  in  every  direction.  The  air 
was  full  of  them.  They  would  drop  down  to  the  water, 
dip  their  feet  and  bellies,  and  rise  and  shoot  away  as  if 
propelled  by  an  unseen  power.  They  would  often  dart 
at  the  face  of  an  intruder  as  if  bent  on  piercing  the  eye 
with  their  needle-like  bills,  and  then  poise  for  a  moment 
almost  within  reach  before  turning,  when  they  were  again 
lost  in  the  busy  throng.  Whether  this  act  was  prompted 
by  curiosity  or  resentment  I  was  not  able  to  ascertain." 

As  has  already  been  said,  there  is  not  always  unruffled 
peace  in  the  hummer  family.  Among  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, and  especially  on  the  western  side  of  the  range, 
there  dwells  another  little  hummer  called  the  rufous 
bumming-bird,  because  the  prevailing  color  of  his  plum- 

8 


114. 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 


age  is  reddish,  and  between  this  family  and  the  broad- 
tails there  exists  a  bitter  feud.  When,  in  the  migrating 
season,  a  large  number  of  both  species  gather  together 
in  a  locality  where  there  is  a  cluster  of  wild-flowers,  the 
picture  they  make  as  they  dart  to  and  fro  and  bicker 
and  fight  for  some  choice  blossom,  their  metallic  colors 
flashing  in  the  sun,  is  so  brilliant  as  never  to  be  for- 
gotten by  the  spectator  who  is  fortunate  enough  to 
witness  it. 


'^^T:;^. 


^^ 


*^ Pikers  Peak  in  doudland  " 


OVER   THE   DIVIDE   AND   BACK 


OVER  THE  DIVIDE  AND  BACK 

ONE  June  day  a  Denver  &  Rio  Grande  train 
bore  the  bird-lover  from  Colorado  Springs  to 
Pueblo,  thence  westward  to  the  mountains,  up 
the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Arkansas  River,  through  the 
Royal  Gorge,  past  the  smiling,  sunshiny  upper  moun- 
tain valleys,  over  the  Divide  at  Tennessee  Pass,  and 
then  dovvn  the  western  slopes  to  the  next  stopping-place, 
which  was  Red  Cliff,  a  village  nestling  in  a  deep  moun- 
tain ravine  at  the  junction  of  Eagle  River  and  Turkey 
Creek.  The  following  day,  a  little  after  "  peep  o"*  dawn,"" 
I  was  out  on  the  street,  and  was  impressed  by  a  song 
coming  from  the  trees  on  the  acclivity  above  the  village. 
"  Surely  that  is  a  new  song,"'  I  said  to  myself ;  "  and  yet 
it  seems  to  have  a  familiar  air."  A  few  minutes  of  hard 
climbing  brought  me  near  enough  to  get  my  glass  on 
the  little  lyrist,  and  then  I  found  it  was  only  the  house- 
wren  !  "  How  could  you  be  led  astray  by  so  familiar  a 
song.'^"''  you  inquire.  Well,  that  is  the  humiliating 
part  of  the  incident,  for  I  have  been  listening  to  the 
house- wren''s  gurgling  sonata  for  some  twenty  years  — 
rather  more  than  less  —  and  should  have  recognized  it 

117 


118 


BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 


-^ 


^/: 


Cliff-Swallows 


"  On  the  rugged 
face  of  a  clif" 


^    ^   /  at   once;    only  it  must  be  re- 

membered that  I  was  in  a  strange  place,  and 
had  my  ears  and  eyes  set  for  avian  rarities,  and 
therefore  blundered.^ 

To  my  surprise,  I  found  many  birds  on  those 
steep   mountain    sides,   which  were   quite   well 
timbered.     Above  the  village  a   colony  of  cliff- 
swallows  had  a  nesting  place  on  the  rugged  face 
of  a  cliff,  and  were  soaring  about  catching  insects 
and  attending  to  the  wants  of  their  greedy  young. 
Besides  the  species  named,  I  here  found  war- 
bling vireos,  broad-tailed  humming-birds,  western 


r 


On  this  incident  I  quote  a  personal  note  from  my 
friend,  Mr.  Aiken  :  "The  wren  of  the  Rockies  is  the 
western  house-wren,  but  is  the  same  form  as  that  found 
in  the  Mississippi  Valley.  It  is  quite  possible  that  a 
diflference  in  song  may  occur,  but  I  have  not  noticed 
any." 


y 


OVER  THE   DIVIDE  AND  BACK  119 

night-hawks,  ruby-crowned  kinglets,  magpies,  summer 
warblers,  mountain  chickadees,  western  wood-pewees, 
Louisiana  tanagers,  long-crested  jays,  kingfishers,  gray- 
headed  j  uncos,  redshafted  flickers,  pygmy  nuthatches, 
house-finches,  mountain  jays,  and  Clarke''s  nutcrackers. 
The  only  species  noted  here  that  had  not  previously 
been  seen  east  of  the  Divide  was  the  pygmy  nuthatch, 
a  little  bird  which  scales  the  trunks  and  branches  of 
trees  like  all  his  family,  but  which  is  restricted  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  Like  the  white-breasted  nuthatch, 
he  utters  an  alto  call,  "  Yang !  yang  !  yang ! "  only  it 
is  soft  and  low  —  a  miniature  edition  of  the  call  of  its 
eastern  relative. 

A  mountain  chickadee's  nest  was  also  found,  and 
here  I  heard  for  the  first  time  one  of  these  birds  sing. 
Its  performance  was  quite  an  affecting  little  minor 
whistle,  usually  composed  of  four  distinct  notes,  though 
sometimes  the  vocalist  contented  himself  with  a  song 
of  two  or  three  syllables.  The  ordinary  run  might  be 
represented  phonetically  in  this  way,  "  Phee,  ph-e-e-e, 
phe-phe,"  with  the  chief  emphasis  on  the  second  syllable, 
which  is  considerably  prolonged.  The  song  is  quite 
different  from  that  of  the  black-capped  chickadee 
both  in  the  intoning  and  the  technical  arrangement, 
while  it  does  not  run  so  high  in  the  scale,  nor  does 
it  impress  me  as  being  quite  so  much  of  a  minor  strain, 
if  such    a   distinction   can  be   made    in    music.     Both 


120  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

birds'  tunes,  however,  have  the  character  of  being^ 
whistled. 

Glen  wood  is  a  charming  summer  resort  in  Colorado 
on  the  western  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  range,  and 
can  be  reached  by  both  the  Denver  &  Rio  Grande  and 
the  Colorado  Midland  Railways.  Beautifully  situated 
in  an  open  mountain  valley,  it  possesses  many  attrac- 
tions in  the  way  of  natural  scenery,  while  the  cool 
breezes  blow  down  from  the  snow-mantled  ranges  gleam- 
ing in  the  distance,  and  the  medicinal  springs  draw 
many  tourists  in  search  of  health  and  recuperation. 

My  purpose,  however,  in  visiting  this  idyllic  spot  — 
I  went  there  from  Red  Cliff —  was  not  primarily  to 
view  the  scenery,  nor  to  make  use  of  the  healing  waters, 
but  to  gratify  my  thirst  for  bird-lore.  Having  spent 
some  weeks  in  observing  the  a vi -fauna  east  of  the 
range,  I  had  a  curiosity  to  know  something  of  bird  life 
west  of  the  great  chain  of  alpine  heights,  and  therefore 
I  selected  Glenwood  as  a  fertile  field  in  which  to  carry 
on  some  investigations.  While  my  stay  at  this  resort 
was  all  too  short,  it  was  of  sufficient  length  to  put  me 
in  possession  of  a  number  of  facts  that  may  prove  to  be 
of  general  interest. 

For  one  thing  I  learned,  somewhat  to  my  surprise, 
that  the  avian  fauna  on  both  sides  of  the  Divide  is 
much  the  same.  Indeed,  with  one  exception  —  to  be 
noted  more  at  length  hereafter  —  I  found  no  birds  on 


OVER  THE   DIVIDE   AND   BACK  121 

the  western  side  that  I  had  not  previously  seen  on  the 
eastern  side,  although  a  longer  and  minuter  examination 
would  undoubtedly  have  resulted  in  the  discovery  of  a 
few  species  that  are  peculiar  to  the  regions  beyond  the 
range.  In  the  extreme  western  and  southwestern  por- 
tions of  Colorado  there  are  quite  a  number  of  species 
that  are  seldom  or  never  seen  in  the  eastern  part  of  the 
State.  However,  keeping  to  the  mountainous  districts, 
and  given  the  same  altitude  and  other  conditions,  you 
will  be  likely  to  find  the  same  kinds  of  feathered  folk  on 
both  sides  of  the  range.  A  few  concrete  cases  will  make 
this  statement  clear.  The  elevation  of  Glen  wood  is 
five  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty-eight  feet ;  that 
of  Colorado  Springs,  five  thousand  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-two  feet ;  and  the  climatic  conditions  otherwise 
are  practically  the  same.  Hence  at  both  places  the 
following  species  were  found  :  Lazuli  buntings,  Arkansas 
goldfinches,  American  goldfinches,  western  wood-pewees, 
Arkansas  king-birds,  Bullock's  orioles,  grassfinches,  and 
catbirds.  At  the  same  time  there  were  a  number  of 
species  in  both  localities  that  have  a  more  extensive  ver- 
tical range,  as,  for  example,  the  western  robins,  which 
were  seen  in  many  places  from  the  bases  of  the  moun- 
tains up  to  the  timber-line,  over  eleven  thousand  five 
hundred  feet  above  sea-level. 

The  presence  of  practically  the  same  avian  fauna  on 
both  sides  of  the  great  range  suggests  some  speculations 


ROYAL  GORGE 

Ix  the  Grand  CaJion  of  the  Arkansas  River.  In  canons  like 
this,  their  walls  rising  almost  vertically  from  one  thousand  to 
fifteen  hundred  feet,  few  birds  are  to  be  seen.  Occasion- 
ally a  dove  will  Jly  from  one  side  of  the  gorge  to  tlie  other 
before  the  scurrying  train.  From  below  a  viagpie  or  a  Clark's 
crow  may  sometimes  be  seen  flying  overhead  across  the  fearful 
chasm  from  one  wall  to  the  other,  turning  its  head  at  intervals 
a^  if  to  inspect  and  question  the  spectator  over  a  thousand  feet 
below. 


124  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

as  to  their  movements  in  the  migrating  season.  Do 
those  on  the  western  side  of  the  mountains  travel  over 
the  towering  summits  from  the  eastern  plains  ?  Or  do 
they  come  up  from  their  southern  winter  homes  by  way 
of  the  valleys  and  plains  west  of  the  range  ?  Undoubt- 
edly the  latter  is  the  correct  surmise,  for  there  were 
birds  at  Glenwood  that  are  never  known  to  ascend  far 
into  the  mountains,  and  should  they  attempt  to  cross 
the  Divide  in  the  early  spring,  they  would  surely  perish 
in  the  intense  cold  of  those  elevated  regions,  where 
snow  often  falls  even  in  June,  July,  and  August.  One 
can  easily  imagine  some  of  the  eastern  and  western 
residents  meeting  in  the  autunm  on  the  plains  at  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  mountain  range,  dwelling 
together  in  some  southern  locality  throughout  the 
winter,  and  then,  when  spring  approaches,  taking  their 
separate  routes,  part  going  east  and  part  west  of  the 
range,  for  their  breeding  haunts  in  the  North.  More 
than  likely  they  do  not  meet  again  until  the  following 
autumn.  There  are  individuals,  doubtless,  that  never 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  western  side  of  the  great  Ameri- 
can watershed,  while  others  are  deprived  of  the  priv- 
ilege of  looking  upon  the  majestic  panoramas  of  the 
eastern  side. 

What  has  just  been  said  applies,  of  course,  only  to 
those  species  that  prefer  to  dwell  in  the  lower  altitudes. 
There  are  other  species  that  find  habitats  to  their  taste 


OVER   THE   DIVIDE   AND   BACK  125 

in  the  most  elevated  localities,  ranging  at  will  in  the 
summer  time  over  the  bald  summits  in  the  regions  of 
perpetual  snow.  Among  these  may  be  mentioned  the 
brown-capped  leucostictes,  the  American  pipits,  the 
ravens,  and  Brewer's  blackbirds.  These  species  will 
often  have  the  privilege  of  looking  upon  the  scenery  on 
both  sides  of  the  range,  and  you  and  I  can  scarcely 
repress  a  feeling  of  envy  when  we  think  of  their  happy 
freedom,  and  their  frequent  opportunities  to  go  sight- 
seeing. 

WTiile  taking  an  early  morning  stroll  along  one  of 
the  streets  of  Glen  wood,  I  caught  sight  of  a  new 
member  of  the  phoebe  family,  its  reddish  breast  and 
sides  differentiating  it  from  the  familiar  phcebe  of  the 
East.  Afterwards  I  identified  it  as  Say's  phcebe,  a 
distinctly  western  species.  Its  habits  are  like  those  of 
its  eastern  relative.  A  pair  of  Say's  phoebes  had 
placed  their  nest  on  a  beam  of  a  veranda,  near  the 
roof,  where  they  could  be  seen  carrying  food  to  their 
young.  My  notes  say  nothing  of  their  singing  a  tune 
or  even  uttering  a  chirp.  This  was  my  first  observation 
of  Say's  phcebe,  although,  as  will  be  seen,  I  subsequently 
saw  one  under  somewhat  peculiar  circumstances. 

Having  spent  all  the  time  I  could  spare  at  Glenwood, 
one  morning  I  boarded  the  eastward-bound  train,  and 
was  soon  whirling  up  through  the  sublime  canons  of 
Grand  and  Eagle  Rivers,  keeping  on  the  alert  for  such 


126  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

birds  as  I  could  see  from  the  car-window.  Few  birds, 
as  has  been  said,  can  be  seen  in  the  dark  gorges  of 
the  mountains,  the  species  that  are  most  frequently  de- 
scried being  the  turtle  doves,  with  now  and  then  a  small 
flock  of  blackbirds.  The  open,  sunlit  valleys  of  the 
upper  mountains,  watered  by  the  brawling  streams,  are 
much  more  to  the  liking  of  many  birds,  especially  the 
mountain  song-sparrows,  the  white-crowned  sparrows, 
the  green-tailed  towhees,  and  Audubon's  and  Wilson's 
warblers.  Up,  up,  for  many  miles  the  double-headed 
train  crept,  tooting  and  puffing  hard,  until  at  length  it 
reached  the  highest  point  on  the  route,  which  is  Tennes- 
see Pass,  through  the  tunnel  of  which  it  swept  with  a 
sullen  roar,  issuing  into  daylight  on  the  eastern  side, 
where  the  waters  of  the  streams  flow  eastward  instead  of 
westward.  The  elevation  of  this  tunnel  is  ten  thousand 
four  hundred  and  eighteen  feet,  which  is  still  about  a 
thousand  feet  below  the  timber-line.  A  minute  after 
emerging  from  the  tunnel's  mouth  I  caught  sight  of  a 
red-shafted  flicker  which  went  bolting  across  the  narrow 
valley.  The  train  swept  down  the  valley  for  some 
miles,  stopped  long  enough  to  have  another  engine 
coupled  to  the  one  that  had  brought  us  down  from 
the  tunnel,  then  wheeled  to  the  left  and  began  the 
ascent  to  the  city  of  Leadville.  This  city  is  situated 
on  a  sloping  plain  on  the  mountain  side,  in  full  view 
of  many  bald  mountain  peaks  whose  gorges  are  filled 


OVER  THE   DIVIDE  AND  BACK  127 

with  deep  snowdrifts  throughout  the  summer.  For 
some  purposes  Leadville  may  be  an  exceedingly  desir- 
able city,  but  it  has  few  attractions  for  the  ornithol- 
ogist. I  took  a  long  walk  through  a  part  of  the  city, 
and,  whether  you  will  believe  it  or  not,  I  did  not  see 
a  single  bird  outside  of  a  cage,  not  even  a  house-finch 
or  an  English  sparrow,  nor  did  I  see  one  tree  in  my 
entire  stroll  along  the  busy  streets.  The  caged  birds 
seen  were  a  canary  and  a  cardinal,  and,  oddly  enough, 
both  of  them  were  singing,  mayhap  for  very  home- 
sickness. 

Why  should  a  bird  student  tarry  here  ?  Wliat  was 
there  to  keep  him  in  a  birdless  place  like  this?  I 
decided  to  leave  at  once,  and  so,  checking  my  baggage 
through  to  Buena  Vista,  I  started  afoot  down  the  moun- 
tain side,  determined  to  walk  to  Malta,  a  station  five 
miles  below,  observing  the  birds  along  the  way.  Not  a 
feathered  lilter  was  seen  until  I  had  gone  about  a  mile 
from  Leadville,  when  a  disconsolate  robin  appeared 
among  some  scraggy  pine  bushes,  not  uttering  so  much 
as  a  chirp  by  way  of  greeting. 

A  few  minutes  later  I  heard  a  vigorous  and  musical 
chirping  in  the  pine  bushes,  and,  turning  aside,  found  a 
flock  of  small,  finch-like  birds.  They  flitted  about  so 
rapidly  that  it  was  impossible  to  get  a  good  view  of 
them  with  my  glasses ;  but  such  glimpses  as  I  obtained 
revealed  a  prevailing  grayish,  streaked  with  some  darker 


128 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 


color,  while  a  glint  of  yellow  in  their  wings  and  tails 
was  displayed  as  the  birds  flew  from  bush  to  bush. 
When  the  wings  were  spread,  a  narrow  bar  of  yellow 
or  whitish-yellow  seemed  to  stretch  across  them  length- 
wise, giving  them  a  gauzy  appearance.  The  birds 
remained  together  in  a  more  or  less  compact  flock. 
They  uttered  a  loud,  clear  chirp  that  was  almost  musi- 
cal, and  also  piped  a  quaint  trill 
that  was  almost  as  low  and  harsh 
as  that  of  the  little  clay-colored 
sparrow,  although  occasionally  one 
would  lift  his  voice  to  a  much  higher 
pitch.  What  were  these  tenants 
of  the  dry  and  piney  mountain  side  ? 
They  were  pine  siskins,  which 
I  had  ample  opportunity  to 
study  in  my  rambles  among  the 
mountains  in  1901. 

A  mile  farther  down,  a  lone 
mountain  bluebird  appeared  in 
sight,    perched   on    a    gray 
stump  on  the  gray  hillside, 
and  keeping  as  silent  as  if 
it  were  a  crime  in  bluebird- 
land  to  utter  a  sound.     This 
bird's  breeding  range  extends 
from  the  plains  to  the  timber- 


Pine  Siskins 


OVER   THE   DIVIDE   AND   BACK  129 

line ;  and  he  dwells  on  both  sides  of  the  mountains,  for 
I  met  with  him  at  Glenwood.  About  a  half  mile  above 
Malta  a  western  night-hawk  was  seen,  hurtling  in  his 
eccentric,  zigzag  flight  overhead,  uttering  his  strident 
call,  and  "hawking  for  flies,"  as  White  of  Selbome 
would  phrase  it.  A  western  grassfinch  flew  over  to  some 
bushes  with  a  morsel  in  its  bill,  but  I  could  not  discover 
its  nest  or  young,  search  as  I  would.  Afterwards  it 
perched  on  a  telegraph  wire  and  poured  out  its  evening 
voluntary,  which  was  the  precise  duplicate  of  the  trills 
of  the  grassfinches  of  eastern  North  America.  There 
seems  to  be  only  a  slight  difference  between  the  eastern 
and  western  forms  of  these  birds,  so  slight,  indeed,  that 
they  can  be  distinguished  only  by  having  the  birds  in 
hand. 

Turtle  doves  were  also  plentiful  in  the  valley  above 
Malta,  as  they  were  in  most  suitable  localities.  Here 
were  also  several  western  robins,  one  of  which  saluted 
me  with  a  cheerful  carol,  whose  tone  and  syllabling 
were  exactly  like  those  of  the  merry  redbreast  of  our 
Eastern  States.  I  was  delighted  to  find  the  sweet- 
voiced  white-crowned  sparrows  tenants  of  this  valley, 
although  they  were  not  so  abundant  here  as  they  had 
been  a  little  over  a  week  before  in  the  hollows  below 
the  summit  of  Pike's  Peak.  But  what  was  the  bird 
which  was  singing  so  blithely  a  short  distance  up  the 
slope?     He  remained  hidden  until  I  drew  near,  when 

9 


130  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

he  ran  off  on  the  ground  like  a  frightened  doe,  and  was 
soon  ensconced  in  a  sage  bush.  Note  his  chestnut  crest 
and  greenish  back.  This  is  the  green-tailed  towhee. 
He  is  one  of  the  finest  vocalists  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, his  tones  being  strong  and  well  modulated,  his 
execution  almost  perfect  as  to  technique,  and  his  entire 
song  characterized  by  a  quality  that  might  be  defined 
as  human  expressiveness. 

A  pair  of  western  chipping  sparrows  were  feeding 
their  young  in  one  of  the  sage  bushes.  I  hoped  to  find 
a  nest,  but  my  quest  simply  proved  that  the  bantlings 
had  already  left  their  nurseries.  It  was  some  satisfac- 
tion, however,  to  establish  the  fact  at  first  hand  that 
the  western  chipping  sparrows  breed  at  an  elevation  of 
nine  thousand  five  hundred  and  eighty  feet  above  sea- 
level. 

While  strolling  about  a  short  distance  above  the 
town,  I  discovered  an  underground  passage  leading  to 
some  of  the  factories,  or  perhaps  the  smelting  works,  a 
few  miles  farther  up  the  valley.  The  overarching  ground 
and  timbers  forming  the  roof  were  broken  through  at 
various  places,  making  convenient  openings  for  the  un- 
wary pedestrian  to  tumble  through  should  he  venture 
to  stroll  about  here  by  night.  Suddenly  a  little  broad- 
shouldered  bird  appeared  from  some  mysterious  quarter, 
and  flitted  silently  about  from  bush  to  bush  or  from  one 
tussock  of  grass  to  another.     To  my  surprise,  he  pres- 


OVER   THE   DIVIDE   AND   BACK  131 

ently  dropped  into  one  of  the  openings  of  the  subter- 
ranean passage,  disappeared  for  a  few  moments,  and 
then  emerged  from  another  opening  a  little  farther 
away.  The  bird  —  let  me  say  at  once  —  was  Say's 
phoebe,  with  which,  as  previously  told,  I  made  acquain- 
tance at  Glen  wood.  He  may  be  recognized  by  the  red- 
dish or  cinnamon-brown  cast  of  his  abdomen  and  sides. 
Again  and  again  he  darted  into  the  passage,  perhaps  to 
make  sure  that  his  bairns  had  not  been  kidnapped,  and 
then  came  up  to  keep  a  vigilant  eye  on  his  visitor,  whom 
he  was  not  wholly  disposed  to  trust.  I  am  not  sure  that 
there  was  a  nest  in  the  subterranean  passage,  as  my  time 
was  too  short  to  look  for  it.  Others  may  not  regard  it 
as  an  important  ornithological  discovery,  and  I  do  not 
pretend  that  it  was  epoch-making,  but  to  me  it  was  at 
least  interesting  to  find  this  species,  which  was  new  to 
me,  dwelling  at  an  elevation  of  five  thousand  seven  hun- 
dred and  fifty-eight  feet  on  the  western  side  of  the  range, 
and  on  the  eastern  side  at  an  elevation  of  nine  thou- 
sand five  hundred  and  eighty  feet.  Nowhere  else  in  my 
peregrinations  among  the  Rockies  did  I  so  much  as  catch 
a  glimpse  of  Say's  phcebe.^ 

With  the  exception  of  some  swallows  circling  about 
in  the  air,  I  saw  no  other  birds  during  my  brief  stay  at 

1  In  1901  this  bird  was  seen  by  me  in  South  Park,  and  its  quaint 
whistle  was  heard,  —  it  says  Phe-hj^  but  its  tone  and  expression  are 
different  from  those  of  its  eastern  relative.  See  the  chapter  en- 
titled "  Pleasant  Outings." 


132  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

Malta.  I  was  sorely  disappointed  in  not  being  able  to 
find  accommodation  at  this  place,  for  it  had  been  my 
intention  to  remain  here  for  the  night,  and  walk  the 
next  day  to  a  station  called  Granite,  some  seventeen 
miles  farther  down  the  valley,  making  observations  on 
bird  life  in  the  region  by  the  way.  To  this  day  I  re- 
gret that  my  calculations  went  "  agley ""  ;  but  I  was  told 
that  accommodation  was  not  be  secured  at  Malta  "  for 
love  or  money,""  and  so  I  shook  the  dust  from  my  feet, 
and  boarded  an  evening  train  for  my  next  stopping- 
place,  which  was  Buena  Vista. 

The  elevation  of  this  beautiful  mountain  town  is 
seven  thousand  nine  hundred  and  sixty-seven  feet.  It 
nestles  amid  cottonwood  trees  and  green  meadows  in 
a  wide  valley  or  park,  and  is  flanked  on  the  east  by 
the  rolling  and  roaring  Arkansas  River,  while  to  the 
west  the  plain  slopes  up  gradually  to  the  foothills  of 
the  three  towering  college  peaks,  —  Harvard,  Yale, 
and  Princeton,  —  crowned  all  the  year  with  snow. 
And  here  were  birds  in  plenty.  Before  daybreak  the 
avian  concert  began  with  the  shrieking  of  the  western 
wood-pewees  —  a  vocal  performance  that  they,  in  their 
innocence,  seriously  mistake  for  melody  —  and  continued 
until  night  had  again  settled  on  the  vale.  In  this  place 
I  spent  three  or  four  days,  giving  myself  up  to  my 
favorite  study  and  pastime,  and  a  list  of  all  the  birds 
that    I  saw  in    the    neighborhood   would  surprise    the 


OVER   THE   DIVIDE   AND   BACK  133 

reader.  However,  a  mere  catalogue  would  be  of  slight 
interest,  I  apprehend,  and  therefore  mention  will  be 
made  only  of  those  species  which  I  had  not  seen  else- 
where, passing  by  such  familiar  feathered  folk  as  the 
Arkansas  goldfinches,  catbirds,  western  meadow-larks, 
Brewer''s  blackbirds,  house-finches,  green -tailed  towhees, 
magpies,  long-crested  jays,  summer  warblers,  and  many 
others,  begging  their  pardon,  of  course,  for  paying  them 
such  scant  courtesy. 

Early  on  a  bright  morning  I  was  following  one  of  the 
streets  of  the  village,  when,  on  reaching  the  suburbs,  I 
was  greeted  by  a  blithe,  dulcet  trill  which  could  come 
from  no  other  vocalist  than  the  song-sparrow.  His 
tones  and  vocalization  were  precisely  like  those  of  Melo- 
spizafasciata^  to  which  I  have  so  often  listened  in  my 
native  State  of  Ohio.  It  was  a  dulcet  strain,  and 
stirred  memories  half  sad,  half  glad,  of  many  a  charming 
ramble  about  my  eastern  home  when  the  song-sparrows 
were  the  chief  choralists  in  the  outdoor  opera  festival. 
Peering  into  the  bushes  that  fringed  the  gurgling  moun- 
tain brook,  I  soon  caught  sight  of  the  little  triller,  and 
found  that,  so  far  as  I  could  distinguish  them  with  my 
field-glass,  his  markings  were  just  like  those  of  his  east- 
ern relative  —  the  same  mottled  breast,  with  the  large 
dusky  blotch  in  the  centre. 

Delighted  as  I  was  with  the  bird's  aria,  I  could  not 
decide  whether  this  was  the  common  song-sparrow  or 


134  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

the  mountain  song-sparrow.  Something  over  a  week 
earher  I  had  seen  what  I  took  to  be  the  mountain  song- 
sparrow  in  a  green  nook  below  the  summit  of  Pike's 
Peak,  and  had  noted  his  trill  as  a  rather  shabby  per- 
formance in  comparison  with  the  tinkling  chansons  of 
the  song-sparrow  of  the  East.  Had  I  mistaken  some 
other  bird  for  the  mountain  song-sparrow  ?  Or  was  the 
Buena  Vista  bird  the  common  song-sparrow  which  had 
gone  entirely  beyond  its  Colorado  range  ?  Consulting 
Professor  W.  W.  Cooke's  list  of  Colorado  birds,  I  found 
that  Melospiza  fasciata  is  marked  "  migratory,  rare,'' 
and  has  been  known  thus  far  only  in  the  extreme 
eastern  part  of  the  State ;  whereas  Melospiza  fasciata 
montana  is  a  summer  resident,  "common  throughout 
the  State  in  migration,  and  not  uncommon  as  a  breeder 
from  the  plains  to  eight  thousand  feet." 

But  Professor  Cooke  fails  to  give  a  clue  to  the  song 
of  either  variety,  and  therefore  my  little  problem  remains 
unsolved,  as  I  could  not  think  of  taking  the  life  of 
a  dulcet-voiced  bird  merely  to  discover  whether  it 
should  have  *■' montana''''  affixed  to  its  scientific  name 
or  not.  All  I  can  say  is,  if  this  soloist  was  a  moun- 
tain song-sparrow,  he  reproduced  exactly  the  trills  of 
his  half-brothers  of  the  East.  ^     On  the  morning  of  my 

1  The  problem  has  since  been  solved,  through  the  aid  of  Mr. 
Aiken.  The  Buena  Vista  bird  was  montana^  while  the  bird  in  the 
Pike's  Peak  hollow  was  Lincoln's  sparrow. 


OVER   THE   DIVIDE   AND   BACK  135 

departure  from  Buena  Vista  another  song-sparrow  sang 
his  matins,  in  loud,  clear  tones  among  the  bushes  of  a 
stream  that  flowed  through  the  town,  ringing  quite  a 
number  of  changes  in  his  tune,  all  of  them  familiar  to 
my  ear  from  long  acquaintance  with  the  eastern  forms 
of  the  Melospiza  subfamily. 

How  well  I  recall  a  rainy  afternoon  during  my  stay  at 
Buena  Vista  !  The  rain  was  not  so  much  of  a  downpour 
as  to  drive  me  indoors,  although  it  made  rambling  in  the 
bushes  somewhat  unpleasant.  What  was  this  haunting 
song  that  rose  from  a  thick  copse  fringing  one  of  the 
babbling  mountain  brooks?  It  mingled  sweetly  with 
the  patter  of  the  rain  upon  the  leaves.  Surely  it  was 
the  song  of  the  veery  thrush  !  The  same  rich,  melodious 
strain,  sounding  as  if  it  were  blown  through  a  wind-harp, 
setting  all  the  strings  a-tune  at  the  same  time.  Too 
long  and  closely  had  I  studied  the  veery's  minstrelsy  in 
his  summer  haunts  in  northern  Minnesota  to  be  deceived 
now  —  unless,  indeed,  this  fertile  avian  region  produced 
another  thrush  which  whistled  precisely  the  same  tune. 
The  bird's  alarm-call  was  also  like  that  of  the  veery. 
The  few  glimpses  he  permitted  of  his  flitting,  shadowy 
form  convinced  me  that  he  must  be  a  veery,  and  so  I 
entered  him  in  my  note-book. 

But  on  looking  up  the  matter  —  for  the  bird  student 
must  aim  at  accuracy — what  was  my  surprise  to  find 
that  the  Colorado  ornithologists  have  decided  that  the 


136 


BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 


veery  thrush  is  not  a  resident  of  the  State,  nor  even  an 
occasional  visitor!  Of  course  I  could  not  set  up  my 
judgment  against  that  of  those  scientific  gentlemen. 
But  what  could  this  minstrel  be  ?  I  wrote  to  my  friend, 
Mr.  Charles  E.  Aiken,  of  Colorado  Springs,  who  replied 
that  the  bird  was  undoubtedly  the  willow  thrush,  which 
is  the  western  representative  of  the  veery.  I  am  willing 
to  abide  by  this  decision,  especially  as 
Ridgway  indicates  in  his  Manual  that 
there  is  very  little  difference  in  the 
coloration  of  the  two  varieties.  One 
more  mile-post  had  been  passed  in  my 
never-ending  ornithological  journey  —  I 
had  learned  for  myself  and  others  that 
l.-^  the  willow  thrush  of  the  Rockies  and 
^ -^\i^,  the  veery  of  our  Eastern  and 
^  /'^^  Middle  States  have  practically 
3'  -  the  same  musical  repertory,  and 
nowhere  in  the  East  or  the 
West  is  sweeter  and  more 
haunting  avian  minstrelsy  to 
be  heard,  if  only  it  did  not 
give  one  that  sad  feeling 
which   Heine   calls   Heimweh! 

Willow  rhnish 


A   ROCKY  MOUNTAIxN   LAKE 


Plate  IV 


Lark  Bunting — ■  Cahnnospiza  melanocorijs 
(Upper  figure,  male  ;  lower,  female) 


A   ROCKY   MOUNTAIN  LAKE 


YOU    will   find  a  small  lake  just  about  a  mile 
from  town.     Follow  the  road  leading  out  this 
way  "  —  indicating  the  direction  —  "  until  you 
come  to  a  red  gate.      The  lake 
is  private  property,   but 
you  can  go  right  in,  as 
you  don't  shoot.     No  one 
will  drive   you    out.       I 
think  you  will  find  it  an 
interesting  place  for  bird 
study.'' 

The  foregoing  is  what 
my  landlord  told  me  one 
morning  at  Buena  Vista. 
Nor  did  I  waste  time  in  find- 
ing the  way  to  the  lake,  a     «' 
small  sheet  of  water,  as  clear 
as  crystal,  embowered  in  the 
lovely  park  lying  between  tower- 
ing, snow-clad  mountains.  One  might 
almost  call  the  spot  a  bird's  Arcadia. 


Brewer^s  Blackbirds 


■  An  interesting     -- 
place  for  bird 

stvdy  " 


140  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

In  no  place,  in  all  my  tramping  among  the  Rockies, 
did  I  find  so  many  birds  in  an  equal  area. 

In  the  green,  irrigated  meadow  bordering  one  side  of 
the  sheet  of  water,  I  was  pleased  to  find  a  number  of 
Brewer's  blackbirds  busily  gathering  food  in  the  wet 
grass  for  their  young.  And  who  or  what  are  Brewer's 
blackbirds  ?  In  the  East,  the  purple  and  bronzed 
grackles,  or  crow  blackbirds,  are  found  in  great  abun- 
dance ;  but  in  Colorado  these  birds  are  replaced  by  Brewer's 
blackbirds,  which  closely  resemble  their  eastern  kinsfolk, 
athough  not  quite  so  large.  The  iridescence  of  the 
plumage  is  somewhat  different  in  the  two  species,  but 
in  both  the  golden  eyeballs  show  white  at  a  distance. 
When  I  first  saw  a  couple  of  Brewer's  blackbirds  stalking 
featly  about  on  a  lawn  at  Manitou,  digging  worms  and 
grubs  out  of  the  sod,  I  simply  put  them  down  in  my 
notebook  as  bronzed  or  purple  grackles  —  an  error  that 
had  to  be  corrected  afterwards,  on  more  careful  exami- 
nation. The  mistake  shows  how  close  is  the  resemblance 
between  the  two  species. 

The  Brewer  division  of  the  family  breed  on  the  plains 
and  in  the  mountains,  to  an  altitude  of  ten  thousand 
feet,  always  selecting  marshy  places  for  their  early  sum- 
mer home  ;  then  in  August  and  September,  the  breeding 
season  over,  large  flocks  of  old  and  young  ascend  to  the 
regions  above  the  timber-line,  about  thirteen  thou- 
sand feet   above  sea-level,  where  they  swarm   over  the 


A   ROCKY   MOUNTAIN   LAKE  141 

grassy  but  treeless  mountain  sides  in  search  of  food. 
In  October  they  retire  to  the  plains,  in  advance  of  the 
austere  weather  of  the  great  altitudes,  and  soon  the 
majority  of  them  hie  to  a  blander  climate  than  Colorado 
affords  in  winter. 

Still  more  interesting  to  me  was  the  large  colony  of 
yellow-headed  blackbirds  that  had  taken  up  their  resi- 
dence in  the  rushes  and  flags  of  the  upper  end  of  the 
lake.  These  birds  are  not  such  exclusive  westerners  as 
their  ebon-hued  cousins  just  described ;  for  I  found  them 
breeding  at  Lake  Minnetonka,  near  Minneapolis,  Min- 
nesota, a  few  years  ago,  and  they  sometimes  straggle,  I 
believe,  as  far  east  as  Ohio.  A  most  beautiful  bird  is 
this  member  of  the  Icteridce  family,  a  kind  of  Beau 
Brummel  among  his  fellows,  with  his  glossy  black  coat 
and  rich  yellow  —  and  even  orange,  in  highest  feather 
—  mantle  covering  the  whole  head,  neck,  and  breast, 
and  a  large  white,  decorative  spot  on  the  wings,  show- 
ing plainly  in  flight.  He  is  the  handsomest  blackbird 
with  which  I  am  acquainted. 

At  the  time  of  my  visit  to  the  lake,  the  latter  part 
of  June,  the  yellow-heads  were  busy  feeding  their  young, 
many  of  which  had  already  left  the  nest.  From  the 
shore,  I  could  see  dozens  of  them  clinging  to  the  reeds, 
several  of  which  they  would  grasp  with  the  claws  of 
each  foot,  their  little  legs  straddled  far  apart,  the  flexile 
rushes  spreading  out  beneath  their  weight.     There  the 


142 


BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 


Yellow-Headed 
Blackbirds 


youngsters  perched,  without  seeming  to  feel  any  dis- 
comfort from  their  strained  position.  And  what  a 
racket  they  made  when  the  parent  birds  returned  from 
an  excursion  to  distant  meadows  and  lawns,  with  bill- 
some  tidbits  !  They  were  certainly  a  hungry  lot  of 
bairns.  When  I  waded  out  into  the  shallow  water 
/  toward  their  rushy  home,  the  old  birds 
became  quite  uneasy,  circling  about  above 
li    me  like  the  red-wings,  and   uttering 

a  harsh  blackbird  "  chack,"  varied 

intervals  by  a  loud,  and  not 
unmusical,  chirp. 

You    should    see   the 

nest  of  the  yellow-head.     It  is 

really   a    fine    structure,    showing 

no  small  amount  of  artistic  skill  — 

a  plaited  cup,  looking  almost  as   if  it 

had    been     woven     by     human 

hands,  the  rushes  of  the  rim 

and   sides   folding   the  supporting  reeds 

in    their  loops.     Thus    the    nest  and  its 

reedy    pillars    are   firmly    bound    together. 

I     waded     out     to     a    clump    of     rushes 

and    found   one    nest   with  three   eggs  in 

its     softly   felted    cup  —  the    promise,    no 

doubt,  of  a  belated,   or  possibly  a  second, 

brood. 


"  There  the 

youngsters 
perched  " 


A   ROCKY   MOUNTAIN   LAKE  143 

This  mountain  lake  was  also  the  abode  of  a  number 
of  species  of  ducks,  not  all  of  which  could  be  identified, 
on  account  of  the  distance  they  constantly  put  between 
themselves  and  the  observer.  Flocks  of  them  floated 
like  light,  feathered  craft  upon  the  silvery  bosom  of  the 
lake,  now  pursuing  one  another,  now  drifting  lazily, 
now  diving,  and  anon  playing  many  attractive  gambols. 

One  of  the  most  curious  ducks  I  have  ever  seen  was 
the  ruddy  duck,  called  in  the  scientific  manuals  Erisma- 
tura  rubida.  As  I  sat  on  a  rock  on  the  shore,  watching 
the  aquatic  fowl,  one  of  the  male  ruddy  ducks,  accom- 
panied by  three  or  four  females,  swam  out  from  the 
reeds  into  an  open  space  where  I  could  see  him  plainly 
with  my  field-glass.  A  beautiful  picture  he  pre- 
sented, as  he  glided  proudly  about  on  the  water,  sur- 
rounded by  his  devoted  harem.  Imagine,  if  you  can, 
how  regal  he  must  have  appeared  —  his  broad,  flat  bill, 
light  blue,  widening  out  at  the  commissure,  and  seem- 
ing to  shade  off*  into  the  large  white  cheeks,  which 
looked  like  snowy  puff*balls  on  the  sides  of  his  head ; 
his  crown,  black  and  tapering  ;  his  neck,  back,  and  sides, 
a  rich,  glossy  brownish-red  ;  his  lower  parts,  "  silky, 
silvery  white,  '  watered '  with  dusky,  yielding,  gray  un- 
dulations"; and  his  wing-coverts  and  jauntily  perked- 
up  tail,  black.  If  that  was  not  a  picture  worthy  of  an 
artist's  brush  I  have  never  seen  one  in  the  outdoor 
world. 


144  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES       ' 

No  less  quaint  was  his  conduct.  That  he  was  proud 
and  self-conscious,  no  one  seeing  him  could  doubt ;  and 
it  was  just  as  plain  from  his  consequential  mien,  that  he 
was  posing  before  his  train  of  plainly  clad  wives,  who, 
no  doubt,  looked  upon  him  as  the  greatest  "  catch ""  of 
the  lake.  Unlike  most  ducks,  in  swimming  this  haughty 
major  carries  his  head  erect,  and  even  bent  backward  at 
a  sharp  angle  ;  and  his  short  tail  is  cocked  up  and  bent 
forward,  so  that  his  glossy  back  forms  a  graceful  half- 
circle  or  more,  and  does  not  slope  downward,  as  do  the 
backs  of  most  ducks  on  the  water. 

Of  all  the  odd  gestures,  this  fellow's  carried  off  the 
palm.  He  would  draw  his  head  up  and  back,  then 
thrust  it  forward  a  few  inches,  extend  his  blue  bill  in  a 
horizontal  line,  and  at  the  same  time  emit  a  low,  coarse 
squawk  that  I  could  barely  hear.  Oddly  enough,  all 
the  females,  staid  as  they  were,  imitated  their  liege 
lord's  deportment.  It  was  their  way  of  protesting 
against  my  ill-bred  intinision  into  their  demesne. 

Presently  a  second  male  came  out  into  the  open  space, 
accompanied  by  a  retinue  of  wives,  and  then  a  third 
emerged,  similarly  attended.  With  this  there  was  a 
challenging  among  the  rivals  that  was  interesting  to 
witnfess ;  they  fairly  strutted  about  on  the  water,  now 
advancing,  now  retreating,  and  occasionally  almost,  but 
never  quite,  closing  in  combat.  Sometimes  one  would 
pursue  another  for  a  rod  or  more,  in  a  swift  rush  that 


A   ROCKY   MOUNTAIN   LAKE  145 

would  make  the  spray  fly  and  cut  a  swath  on  the  smooth 
bosom  of  the  lake. 

Several  coots  now  appeared  on  the  scene.  Between 
them  and  the  ruddy  ducks  there  seemed  to  be  a  feud  of 
more  or  less  intensity,  each  being  on  the  offensive  or  the 
defensive  as  the  exigencies  of  naval  warfare  demanded. 
Once  I  was  moved  to  laughter  as  a  coot  made  a  fierce 
dash  toward  one  of  the  ducks,  and  was  almost  upon  her, 
and  I  thought  she  was  destined  to  receive  a  severe 
trouncing,  when  she  suddenly  dodged  her  pursuer  by 
diving.  He  just  as  suddenly  gave  up  the  chase,  looking 
as  if  it  were  a  case  of  "  sour  grapes,"  anyway. 

After  watching  the  antics  of  these  birds  for  a  long 
time,  I  turned  my  attention  to  another  pretty  scene,  — 
a  pair  of  coots  leading  their  family  of  eight  or  ten  little 
ones  out  into  the  clear  area  from  their  hiding-place 
among  the  reeds,  presenting  a  picture  of  unruffled  do- 
mestic bliss.  How  sweet  and  innocent  the  little  coots 
were !  Instead  of  the  black  heads  and  necks  of  their 
parents,  and  the  white  bills  and  frontal  bones,  these 
parts  were  tinted  with  red,  which  appeared  quite  bright 
and  gauze-like  in  the  sunshine. 

The  process  of  feeding  the  juvenile  birds  was  interest- 
ing. The  parents  would  swim  about,  then  suddenly  dip 
their  heads  into  the  water,  or  else  dive  clear  under, 
coming  up  with  slugs  in  their  bills.  Turning  to  the 
youngsters,  which  were  always  close  upon  their  heels  — 

10 


146 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 


or  perhaps  I  would  better  say  their  tails  —  they  would 
hold  out  their  bills,  when  the  little  ones  would  swim  up 
and  pick  off  the  toothsome  morsel.  It  must  not  be 
supposed  that  the  bantlings  opened  their  mouths,  as 
most  young  birds  do,  to  receive  the  tidbits.  No,  indeed  ! 
That  is  not  coot  vogue.  The  little  ones  picked  the 
insects  from  the  sides  of  the  papa's  or  mamma's  beak, 
turning  their  own  little  heads  cunningly  to  one  side  as 
they  helped  themselves  to  their  luncheon. 

The  other  waterfowl  of  the  lake  acted  in  an  ordinary 
way,  and  therefore  need  no  description.  It  was  strange, 
however,  that  this  was  the  only  lake  seen  in  all  my 
Rocky  Mountain  touring  where  I  found  water- 
fowl. At  Seven  Lakes,  Moraine  Lake,  and  others  in 
the  vicinity  of  Pike's  Peak,  not  a  duck,  crane,  or  coot 
was  to  be  seen  ;  and  the  same  was  true  of  Cottonwood 
Lake,  twelve  miles  from  Buena  Vista,  right  in  the 
heart  of  the  rugged  mountains. 

Two  facts  may  account  for  the  abundance  of  birds 
at  the  little  lake  near  Buena  Vista ;  first,  here  they  were 
protected  from  gunners  and  pot  hunters  by  the  owner, 
whose  residence  commanded  a  full  view  of  the  whole 
area ;  and,  second,  large  spaces  of  the  upper  end  of  the 
lake  was  thickly  grown  with   flags  and  rushes,  which 
were  cut  off  from  the  shore  by  a  watery  space  of  con- 
siderable   breadth.     In    this    place    these   birds   found 
coverts  from  enemies  and  suitable  sites  for  their  nests. 

"  From  their 
place  among 
the  reeds  " 


A  BIRD   MISCELLANY 


A  BIRD   MISCELLANY 

IT  shall  be  my  purpose  in  this  chapter  to  describe 
with  more  or  less  fulness  a  number  of  Rockj 
Mountain  birds  which  have  either  not  been  men- 
tioned in  previous  chapters  or  have  received  only  casual 
attention. 

On  reaching  Colorado  one  is  surprised  to  find  none 
of  our  common  blue  jays  which  are  so  abundant  in  the 
Eastern  and  Middle  States.  In  my  numerous  Rocky 
Mountain  jaunts  not  one  was  seen.  Yet  this  region 
does  not  need  to  go  begging  for  jays,  only  they  belong 
to  different  groups  of  the  Garrulince  sub-family.  The 
most  abundant  and  conspicuous  of  these  western  forms 
are  the  long-crested  jays,  so  called  on  account  of  the 
long  tuft  of  black  feathers  adorning  the  occiput.  This 
distinguishing  mark  is  not  like  the  firm  pyramidal  crest 
of  the  eastern  jay,  but  is  longer  and  narrower,  and  so 
flexible  that  it  sways  back  and  forth  as  the  bird  flits 
from  branch  to  branch  or  takes  a  hop-skip-and-jump 
over  the  ground.  Its  owner  can  raise  and  lower  it  at 
wiU. 

The  forehead  of  this  jay  is  prettily  sprinkled  with 
white  ;  his  head  and  neck  are  black,  in  decided  contrast 

149 


150  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

with  the  umber-brown  of  the  back ;  his  rump  and  belly 
are  pale  blue,  and  his  wings  and  tail  are  rich  indigo- 
blue,  somewhat  iridescent  and  widely  barred  with  black. 
Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  he  has  quite  a  different  cos- 
tume from  that  of  our  eastern  jay,  with  his  gaudy  trim- 
mings of  white  and  black  and  purplish  blue.  The 
westerner  cannot  boast  of  cristata's  dressy  black  collar, 
but  otherwise  he  is  more  richly  attired,  although  he 
may  not  be  quite  so  showy. 

The  long-crested  jays  have  a  wide  range  among  the 
mountains,  breeding  from  the  base  of  the  foothills  to 
the  timber-line,  although  their  nests  are  not  commonly 
found  below  an  altitude  of  seven  thousand  feet.  In 
many  places  from  nine  to  eleven  thousand  feet  up  the 
acclivities  of  the  mountains  they  were  seen  flitting 
among  the  pines  or  the  quaking  asps.  Like  their  east- 
ern relatives,  some  individuals  seem  to  prefer  the  society 
of  man,  dwelling  in  the  villages  or  in  the  vicinity  of 
country  homes,  while  others  choose  the  most  secluded 
and  solitary  localities  for  their  habitat.  The  fact  is,  I 
rarely  made  an  excursion  anywhere  without  sooner  or 
later  discovering  that  these  jays  had  pre-empted  the 
place  for  feeding  or  breeding  purposes,  sometimes  with 
loud  objurgations  bidding  me,  be  gone,  and  at  other 
times  making  no  to-do  whatever  over  my  intrusion. 
Perhaps  the  proximity  or  remoteness  of  their  nests  was 
the  chief  cause  of  this  variableness  in  their  behavior. 


A   BIRD   MISCELLANY  151 

A  pretty  picture  is  one  of  these  jays  mounting  from 
branch  to  branch  around  the  stem  of  a  pine  tree,  from 
the  lower  limbs  to  the  top,  as  if  he  were  ascending  a 
spiral  staircase.  This  seems  to  be  one  of  their  regula- 
tion habits  when  they  find  themselves  under  inspection. 
If  you  intrude  on  their  domestic  precincts,  their  cry  is 
quite  harsh,  and  bears  no  resemblance  to  the  quaint 
calls  of  the  eastern  jays  ;  nor  does  the  plaintive  note  of 
the  eastern  representative,  so  frequently  heard  in  the 
autumnal  woods,  ever  issue  from  any  of  the  numerous 
jay  throats  of  the  West. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  blacken  the  reputation  of  any 
bird,  but  there  is  at  least  circumstantial  evidence  that 
the  long-crested  jay,  like  his  eastern  cousin,  is  a  nest 
robber ;  for  such  birds  as  robins,  tanagers,  flycatchers, 
and  vireos  make  war  upon  him  whenever  he  comes 
within  their  breeding  districts,  and  this  would  indicate 
that  they  are  only  too  well  aware  of  his  predatory 
habits.  More  than  that,  he  has  the  sly  and  stealthy 
manners  of  the  sneak-thief  and  the  brigand.  Of  course, 
he  is  by  no  means  an  unmixed  evil,  for  you  will  often 
see  him  leaping  about  on  the  lawns,  capturing  beetles 
and  worms  which  would  surely  be  injurious  to  vegeta- 
tion if  allowed  to  live  and  multiply. 

There  are  other  jays  in  the  Rockies  that  deserve 
attention.  The  Rocky  Mountain  jay  —  Perisoneus  can- 
adensis capitalis  —  is  a  bird  of  the  higher  altitudes,  re- 


152 


BIRDS   OF    THE    ROCKIES 


maining  near  the  timber-line  all  the  year  round,  braving 
the  most  rigorous  weather  and  the  fiercest  mountain 
storms  during  the  winter.  Although  not  an  attractive 
species,  his  hardiness  invests  him  with  not  a  little  in- 
terest. One  can  imagine  him  seeking  a  covert  in  the 
dense  pineries  when  a  storm  sweeps  down  from  the  bald. 


snow-mantled 
approval  of 
yet  able  to 


summits,  squawking  his  dis- 
the  ferocity  of  old  Boreas,  and 
resist  his  most  violent  onsets. 
Early  in  April,  at  an  alti- 
tude of  from  eight  thousand 
to  eleven  thousand  five  hun- 
dred feet,  these  jays  begin  to 
breed.  At  that  height  this 
is  long  before  the  snow 
ceases  to  fall ;  indeed,  on 
the  twentieth  of  June, 
while  making  the  descent 
from  Pike's  Peak,  I  was 
caught  in  a  sno^^'fall  that 
gave  the  ground  quite 
a  frosty  aspect  for  a 
few  minutes.  One  can 
readily  fancy,  therefore, 
that  the  nests  of  these 
birds  are  often  sur- 
rounded    with     snow. 


The  Rocky  Mountain  Jay 


"  Seeking  a  covert  in  the  dense  pineries 

when  a  storm  sweeps  down 

from  the  mountains  " 


A   BIRD   MISCELLANY  153 

and  that  the  bantlings  may  get  their  first  view  of  the 
world  in  the  swirl  of  a  snow-squall.  The  nests  are  built 
in  pine  bushes  and  trees  at  various  distances  from  the 
ground.  Of  all  the  hurly-burlies  ever  heard,  that  which 
these  birds  are  able  to  make  when  you  go  near  their 
nests,  or  discover  them,  bears  off  the  palm,  their  voices 
being  as  raucous  as  a  buzz-saw,  fairly  setting  your  teeth 
on  edge. 

Those  of  us  who  live  in  the  East  are  so  accustomed 
to  the  adjective  "  blue"  in  connection  with  the  jay  that 
we  are  surprised  to  find  that  P.  c.  capitalis  wears  no 
blue  whatever,  but  dons  a  sombre  suit  of  leaden  gray, 
somewhat  relieved  by  the  blackish  shade  of  the  wings 
and  tail,  with  their  silvery  or  frosted  lustre.  He  is  cer- 
tainly not  an  attractive  bird,  either  in  dress  or  in  form, 
for  he  appears  very  "  thick-headed "  and  lumpish,  as  if 
he  scarcely  knew  enough  to  seek  shelter  in  a  time  of 
storm ;  but,  of  course,  a  bird  that  contrives  to  coax  a 
livelihood  out  of  such  unpromising  surroundings  must 
possess  a  fine  degree  of  intelligence,  and,  therefore,  can- 
not be  so  much  of  a  dullard  as  his  appearance  would 
indicate. 

He  has  some  interesting  ways,  too,  as  will  be  seen 
from  the  following  quotation  from  a  Colorado  writer: 
"  White-headed,  grave,  and  sedate,  he  seems  a  very 
paragon  of  propriety,  and  if  you  appear  to  be  a  suit- 
able personage,  he  will  be  apt  to  give  you  a  bit  of  ad- 


154  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

vice.  Becoming  confidential,  he  sputters  out  a  lot  of 
nonsense  which  causes  you  to  think  him  a  veritable 
'  whiskey  Jack.'  Yet,  whenever  he  is  disposed,  a  more 
bland,  mind-your-own-business  appearing  bird  will  be 
hard  to  find;  as  will  also  many  small  articles  around 
camp  after  one  of  his  visits,  for  his  whimsical  brain  has 
a  great  fancy  for  anything  which  may  be  valuable  to 
you,  but  perfectly  useless  to  himself."  This  habit  of 
purloining  has  won  him  the  title  of  "  camp  robber " 
among  the  people  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

Woodhouse's  jay,  also  peculiar  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain region,  is  mostly  to  be  found  along  the  base  of  the 
foothills  and  the  lower  wooded  mountains.  While  he 
may  be  called  a  "blue""  jay,  having  more  of  that  color 
in  his  plumage  than  even  the  long-crested,  he  belongs 
to  the  Aphelcoma  group  —  that  is,  he  is  without  a  crest. 

Every  observer  of  eastern  feathered  folk  is  familiar 
with  our  "  little  boy  blue,"  the  indigo-bird,  whose  song 
is  such  a  rollicking  and  saucy  air,  making  you  feel  as  if 
the  little  lyrist  were  chaffing  you.  In  Colorado,  how- 
ever, you  do  not  meet  this  animated  chunk  of  blue,  but 
another  little  bird  that  belongs  to  the  same  group, 
called  the  "  painted  finches,"  although  their  plumes  are 
not  painted  any  more  than  those  of  other  species.  This 
bird  is  the  lazuli  bunting.  He  wears  a  great  deal  of  blue, 
but  it  is  azure,  and  not  indigo,  covering  the  head,  neck, 
most  of  the  upper  parts,  and  the  lining  of  the  wings ; 


A  BIRD   MISCELLANY  155 

and,  as  if  to  give  variety  to  the  bird's  attire,  the  nape  and 
back  are  prettily  shaded  with  brown,  and  the  wings 
and  tail  with  black.  But  his  plumage  is  still  more 
variegated,  for  he  bears  a  conspicuous  white  spot  on 
the  greater  wing-coverts,  and  his  breast  is  daintily  tinted 
with  chestnut-brown,  abruptly  cut  off  from  the  blue  of 
the  throat,  while  the  remaining  under  parts  are  snowy 
white.  From  this  description  it  will  be  seen  that  he  is 
quite  unlike  the  indigo-bird,  which  has  no  brown  or 
white  in  his  cerulean  attire.  Handsome  as  Master 
Indigo  is,  the  lazuli  finch,  with  his  sextet  of  hues,  is  a 
more  showily  dressed  bird ;  in  fact,  a  lyric  in  colors. 

The  habits  of  the  two  birds  are  quite  similar.  How- 
ever, the  lazuli  seemed  to  be  much  shyer  than  his  rela- 
tive, for  the  latter  is  a  familiar  figure  at  the  border  of 
our  eastern  woodlands,  about  our  country  homes,  and 
even  in  the  neighborhood  of  our  town  dwellings,  when 
there  are  bushes  and  trees  close  at  hand.  My  saunter- 
ings  among  the  mountains  took  me  into  the  haunts  of 
the  lazulis,  but  I  regret  to  have  to  confess  that  all  my 
alertness  was  of  so  little  avail  that  I  saw  only  three 
males  and  one  female.  One  day,  while  rambling  among 
the  cotton  woods  that  broidered  the  creek  flowing  south 
of  Colorado  Springs,  I  was  brought  to  a  standstill  by  a 
sharp  chirp,  and  the  next  moment  a  pair  of  lazulis 
appeared  on  the  lower  branches  and  twigs  of  a  tree. 
There   they   sat   quiet   enough,   watching   me   keenly, 


156  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

but  allowing  me  to  peer  at  theni  at  will  with  my  field- 
glass.  I  could  not  understand  why  birds  that  otherwise 
were  so  shy  should  now  permit  a  prolonged  inspection 
and  manifest  so  little  anxiety;  but  perhaps  they  rea- 
soned that  they  had  been  discovered  anyway,  and  there 
was  no  need  of  pretending  that  no  lazulis  dwelt  in  the 
neighborhood.  How  elegant  the  little  husband  looked 
in  his  variegated  attire  !  The  wife  was  soberly  clad  in 
warm  brown,  slightly  streaked  with  dusk,  but  she  was 
trig  and  pretty  and  worthy  of  her  more  richly  apparelled 
spouse.  In  the  bushes  below  I  found  a  well-made  nest, 
which  I  felt  morally  certain  belonged  to  the  little  couple 
that  was  keeping  such  faithful  surveillance  over  it.  As 
yet  it  contained  no  eggs. 

In  order  to  make  certainty  doubly  sure,  I  visited  the 
place  a  week  or  so  later,  and  found  that  my  previous  con- 
clusion had  been  correct.  I  flushed  the  little  madame 
from  the  nest,  and  saw  her  flit  with  a  chirp  to  the  twigs 
above,  where  she  sat  quietly  watching  her  visitor,  ex- 
hibiting no  uneasiness  whatever  about  her  cot  in  the 
bushes  with  its  three  precious  eggs.  It  was  pleasing  to 
note  the  calmness  and  dignity  with  which  she  regarded 
me.  But  where  was  that  important  personage,  the  little 
husband?  He  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  although  I 
lingered  about  the  charmed  spot  for  over  two  hours, 
hoping  to  get  at  least  a  glimpse  of  him.  A  friend,  who 
understands  the  sly  ways  of  the  lazulis,  suggested  that 


A   BIRD   MISCELLANY  157 

very  likely  the  male  was  watching  me  narrowly  all  the 
while  from  a  safe  hiding-place  in  the  dense  foliage  of 
some  tree  not  far  away. 

My  friend  told  me  that  I  would  not  be  able  to  dis- 
tinguish the  song  of  the  lazuli  from  those  of  the  summer 
and  mountain  warblers.  We  shall  see  whether  he  was 
right.  One  evening  I  was  searching  for  a  couple  of  blue 
grosbeaks  at  the  border  of  Colorado  Springs,  where  I 
had  previously  seen  them,  when  a  loud,  somewhat  per- 
cussive song,  much  like  the  summer  warbler's,  burst  on 
my  ear,  coming  from  a  clump  of  willow  bushes  hard  by 
the  stream.  At  once  I  said  to  myself,  "  That  is  not  the 
summer  warbler''s  trill.  It  resembles  the  challenging 
song  of  the  indigo-bird,  only  it  is  not  quite  so  loud  and 
defiant.  A  lazuli  fincVs  song,  or  I  am  sadly  astray ! 
Let  me  settle  the  question  now." 

I  did  settle  it  to  my  great  satisfaction,  for,  after  no 
little  effort,  I  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  plain  view  of  the 
elusive  little  lyrist,  and,  sure  enough,  it  proved  to  be 
the  lazuli  finch.  Metaphorically  I  patted  myself  with 
a  great  deal  of  self-complacency,  as  I  muttered  :  "  The 
idea  of  Mr.  Aiken''s  thinking  I  had  so  little  discrimina- 
tion !  I  know  that  hereafter  I  shall  be  able  to  detect 
the  lazuli's  peculiar  intonations  every  time.'"*  So  I 
walked  home  in  a  very  self-confident  frame  of  mind. 
A  few  days  later  I  heard  another  song  lilting  down 
from  the  upper  branches  of  a  small  tree.     "  Surely  that 


158  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

is  the  lazuli  again,"*'  I  muttered.  "  I  know  that  voice." 
For  a  while  I  eyed  the  tree,  and  presently  caught  sight 
of  the  little  triller,  and  behold,  it  was  —  a  summer 
warbler  1  All  my  self-complacency  vanished  in  a 
moment;  I  wasn't  cock-sure  of  anything;  and  I  am 
obliged  to  confess  that  I  was  led  astray  in  a  similar 
manner  more  than  once  afterward.  It  may  indicate  an 
odd  psychological  condition  to  make  the  claim ;  but, 
absurd  or  not,  I  am  disposed  to  believe  that,  whenever 
I  really  heard  the  lazuli,  I  was  able  to  recognize  his 
song  with  a  fair  degree  of  certainty,  but  when  I  heard 
the  summer  warbler  I  was  thrown  into  more  or  less  con- 
fusion, not  being  quite  sure  whether  it  was  that  bird  or 
the  other. 

The  most  satisfactory  lazuli  song  I  heard  was  on  the 
western  side  of  the  range,  at  the  resort  called  Glen  wood. 
This  time,  as  was  usually  the  case,  I  heard  the  little 
triller  before  seeing  him,  and  was  sure  it  was  Passerina 
amcena,  as  the  bunting  strains  were  plainly  discern- 
ible. He  was  sitting  on  a  telephone  wire,  and  did  not 
flit  away  as  I  stood  below  and  peered  at  him  through 
my  glass,  and  admired  his  trig  and  handsome  form.  I 
studied  his  song,  and  tried  to  fix  the  peculiar  intona- 
tions in  my  mind,  and  felt  positive  that  I  could  never  be 
caught  again  —  but  I  was.  ^ 

1  In  the  foregoing  remarks  the  lazuli  finches  have  been  repre- 
sented as  excessively  shy.     So  they  were  in  1899  in  the  neighbor- 


A  BIRD   MISCELLANY  159 

The  lazuli  finch  does  not  venture  very  high  into  the 
mountains,  seldom  reaching  an  altitude  of  more  than 
seven  thousand  feet.  He  is  a  lover  of  the  plains,  the 
foothills,  and  the  lower  ranges  of  the  mountains.  In 
this  respect  he  differs  from  some  other  little  birds, 
which  seek  a  summer  home  in  the  higher  regions.  On 
the  southern  slope  of  Pike's  Peak,  a  little  below  the 
timber-line,  I  found  a  dainty  little  bird  which  was  a 
stranger  to  me.  It  was  Audubon's  warbler.  At  first 
sight  I  decided  that  he  must  be  the  myrtle  warbler,  but 
was  compelled  to  change  my  conclusion  when  I  got  a 
glimpse  of  his  throat,  which  was  golden  yellow,  whereas 
the  throat  of  Dendroka  coronata  is  pure  white.  Then, 
too,  the  myrtle  warbler  is  only  a  migrant  in  Colorado, 
passing  farther  north  to  breed.  Audubon's,  it  must  be 
said,  has  extremely  rich  habiliments,  his  upper  parts 
being  bluish-ash,  streaked  with  black,  his  belly  and 
under  tail-coverts  white,  and  his  breast  in  high  feather, 
black,  prettily  skirted  with  gray  or  invaded  with  white 
from  below ;  but  his  yellow  spots,  set  like  gleaming  gold 
in  various  parts  of  his  plumage,  constitute  his  most 
marked  embellishment,  being  found  on  the  crown,  rump, 
throat,  and  each  side  of  the  chest. 

hoods  then  visited.  Strangely  enough,  in  the  vicinity  of  Denver 
in  1901,  these  birds  were  abundant  and  as  easily  approached  and 
studied  as  are  the  indigoes  of  the  East.  See  the  chapter  entitled, 
»'  Plains  and  FoothiUs." 


160  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

On  my  first  excursion  to  some  meadows  and  wooded 
low-grounds  south  of  Colorado  Springs,  while  listening 
to  a  concert  given  by  western  meadow-larks,  my  atten- 
tion was  attracted  to  a  large,  black  bird  circling  about 
the  fields  and  then  alighting  on  a  fence-post.  My  first 
thought  was  :  "  It  is  only  a  crow  blackbird."  But  on 
second  thought  I  decided  that  the  crow  blackbird  did 
not  soar  and  circle  about  in  this  manner.  At  all  events, 
there  seemed  to  be  something  slightly  peculiar  about 
this  bird's  behavior,  so  I  went  nearer  to  inspect  him, 
when  he  left  his  perch  on  the  post,  flapped  around 
over  the  meadow,  and  finally  flew  to  a  large,  partially 
decayed  cottonwood  tree  in  a  pasture  field.  If  I  could 
believe  my  eyes,  he  clung  to  the  upright  stems  of 
the  branches  after  the  style  of  a  woodpecker !  That 
was  queer  indeed  —  a  woodpecker  that  looked  precisely 
like  a  blackbird !  Such  a  featherland  oddity  was 
certainly  foreign  to  any  of  my  calculations ;  for,  it 
must  be  remembered,  this  was  prior  to  my  making 
acquaintance  with  Williamson"'s  sapsucker. 

Closer  inspection  proved  that  this  bird  was  actually 
hitching  up  and  down  the  branches  of  the  tree  in  the 
regular  woodpecker  fashion.  Presently  he  slipped  into 
a  hole  in  a  large  limb,  and  the  loud,  eager  chirping 
of  young  birds  was  heard.  It  was  not  long  before 
his  mate  appeared,  entered  the  cavity,  and  fed  the 
clamorous    brood.      The   birds   proved   to   be   Lewis's 


A   BIRD   MISCELLANY  l6l 

woodpeckers,  another  distinctly  western  type.  My 
field-glass  soon  clearly  brought  out  their  peculiar 
markings. 

A  beautiful  bird-skin,  bought  of  Mr.  Charles  E. 
Aiken,  now  lies  on  my  desk  and  enables  me  to  describe 
the  fine  habiliments  of  this  kind  from  an  actual  speci- 
men. His  upper  parts  are  glossy  black,  the  sheen  on 
the  back  being  greenish,  and  that  on  the  wings  and  tail 
bluish  or  purplish,  according  to  the  angle  of  the  sun"'s 
light ;  a  white  collar  prettily  encircles  the  neck,  becom- 
ing quite  narrow  on  the  nape,  but  widening  out  on  the 
side  so  as  to  cover  the  entire  breast  and  throat.  This 
pectoral  shield  is  mottled  with  black  and  lightly  stained 
with  buff  in  spots  ;  the  forehead,  chin,  superciliary  line, 
and  a  broad  space  on  the  cheek  are  dyed  a  deep  crim- 
son ;  and,  not  least  by  any  means,  the  abdomen  is 
washed  with  pink,  which  is  delicately  stencilled  with 
white,  gray,  and  buff.  A  most  gorgeous  bird,  fairly 
rivalling,  but  not  distancing,  Williamson's  sapsucker. 

By  accident  I  made  a  little  discovery  relative  to  the 
claws  of  this  woodpecker  which,  I  suppose,  would  be 
true  of  all  the  Picidce  family.  The  claws  of  the  two 
fore  toes  are  sharply  curved  and  extremely  acute,  making 
genuine  hooks,  so  that  when  I  attempt  to  pass  my  finger 
over  them  the  points  catch  at  the  skin.  Could  a  better 
hook  be  contrived  for  enabling  the  bird  to  clamber  up 
the  trunks  and  branches  of  trees  ?     But  note  :  the  claws 

11 


162  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

of  the  two  hind  toes  are  not  so  sharply  decurved,  nor  so 
acute  at  the  points,  the  finger  shpping  readily  over  them. 
WTio  can  deny  the  evidence  of  design  in  nature  ?  The 
fore  claws  are  highly  specialized  for  clinging,  the  very 
purpose  for  which  they  are  needed,  while  the  hind  claws, 
being  used  for  a  different  purpose  —  only  that  of  sup- 
port —  are  moulded  over  a  different  pattern. 

Like  our  common  red-head,  this  bird  has  the  habit 
of  soaring  out  into  the  air  and  nabbing  insects  on  the 
wing.  The  only  other  pair  of  these  woodpeckers  I  was 
so  fortunate  as  to  meet  with  were  found  in  the  ravine 
leading  up  from  Buena  Vista  to  Cottonwood  Lake.^ 
Their  nest  was  in  a  dead  tree  by  the  roadside.  While 
the  first  couple  had  been  entirely  silent,  one  of  the 
second  pair  chirped  somewhat  uneasily  when  I  lingered 
beneath  his  tree,  suspecting,  no  doubt,  that  I  had 
sinister  designs  upon  his  nest.  Unlike  some  of  their 
kinsmen,  these  pickers  of  wood  seem  to  be  quiet  and 
dignified,  not  given  to  much  demonstration,  and  are 
quite  leisurely  in  their  movements  both  on  the  branch 
and  on  the  wing. 

One  day,  when  walking  up  Ute  Pass,  celebrated  both 
for  its  magnificent  scenery  and  its  Indian  history,  I  first 

1  Two  years  later  a  pair  were  seen  on  a  mountain  near  Golden, 
Colorado,  and  probably  twenty  individuals  were  watched  a  long  time 
from  a  canon  above  Boulder  as  they  circled  gracefully  over  the 
mountains,  catching  insects  on  the  wing. 


A   BIRD   MISCELLANY  l63 

saw  the  water-ousel.  I  had  been  inspecting  Rainbow 
Falls,  and  was  duly  impressed  with  its  attractiveness. 
Thinking  I  had  lingered  long  enough,  I  turned  away 
and  clambered  up  the  rocky  wall  below  the  falls  towards 
the  road  above.  As  I  did  so,  a  loud,  bell-like  song  rang 
above  the  roar  of  the  water.  On  looking  down  into  the 
ravine,  I  saw  a  mouse-colored  bird,  a  little  smaller  than 
the  robin,  his  tail  perked  up  almost  vertically,  scuttling 
about  on  the  rocks  below  and  dipping  his  body  in  an 
expressive  way  like  the  "  tip-up  "  sandpiper.  Having 
read  about  this  bird,  I  at  once  recognized  it  as  the 
water-ousel.  My  interest  in  everything  else  vanished. 
This  was  one  of  the  birds  I  had  made  my  pilgrimage  to 
the  Rockies  to  study.  It  required  only  a  few  minutes 
to  scramble  down  into  the  ravine  again. 

Breathlessly  I  watched  the  little  bird.  Its  queer 
teetering  is  like  that  of  some  of  the  wrens,  accentors, 
and  water-thrushes.  Now  it  ran  to  the  top  of  a  rock 
and  stood  dipping  and  eying  me  narrowly,  flirting  its 
bobby  tail ;  now  it  flew  to  one  of  the  steep,  almost  ver- 
tical walls  of  rock  and  scrambled  up  to  a  protuberance  ; 
then  down  again  to  the  water  ;  then,  to  my  intense 
delight,  it  plunged  into  the  limpid  stream,  and  came  up 
the  next  moment  with  a  slug  or  water-beetle  in  its  bill. 
Presently  it  flew  over  to  the  opposite  wall,  its  feet  slip- 
ping on  the  wet  rocks,  and  darted  into  a  small  crevice 
just  below  the  foot  of  the  falls,  gave  a  quick  poke  with 


RAINBOW  FALLS 

When  the  sun  strikes  the  spray  and  mist  at  the  proper 
angle,  a  beautiful  rainbow  is  painted  on  the  face  of  the 
falls.  At  the  time  of  the  authors  visit  to  this  idyllic 
spot  a  pair  of  water-ousels  had  chosen  it  for  a  summer  resi- 
dence. They  flew  from  the  rocks  below  to  the  top  of  the 
falls,  hugging  close  to  the  rushing  torrent.  In  returning,  they 
darted  in  one  swift  plunge  from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  alighting 
on  the  rocks  below.  With  the  utmost  abandon  they  dived  into 
the  seething  waters  at  the  foot  of  the  falls,  usually  emerging  with 
a  slug  or  beetle  in  their  bills  for  the  nestlings.  Shod  with  tall 
rubber  boots,  the  writer  waded  close  up  to  the  foot  of  the  falls 
in  search  of  the  dippers  nest,  which  was  set  in  a  cleft  of  the 
rocks  afeiv  inches  aboiie  the  water,  in  the  little  shadofved  cavern 
at  the  left  of  the  stream.  The  pointed  rock  fvrapped  in  mist, 
almost  in  the  line  of  the  plungifig  tide,  was  a  favorite  perch 
for  the  dippers. 


166  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

its  beak  and  flitted  away  —  minus  the  tidbit  it  had  held 
in  its  bill. 

Ah  !  my  propitious  stars  shone  on  me  that  day  with 
special  favor.  I  had  found  not  only  the  water-ousel 
itself,  but  also  its  nest.  Suddenly  water-ousel  number 
two,  the  mate  of  number  one,  appeared  on  the  scene, 
dipped,  scanned  me  closely,  flew  to  the  slippery  wall, 
darted  to  the  cranny,  and  deposited  its  morsel,  as  its 
spouse  had  done.  This  time  I  heard  the  chirping  of 
the  youngsters.  Before  examining  the  nest  I  decided 
to  watch  the  performances  of  the  parent  birds,  which 
soon  cast  off  all  the  restraint  caused  for  a  moment  by 
my  presence,  taking  me,  no  doubt,  for  the  ordinary 
sightseer  who  overlooks  them  altogether. 

Again  and  again  the  birds  plunged  into  the  churning 
flood  at  the  foot  of  the  falls,  sometimes  remaining  under 
water  what  seemed  a  long  while,  and  always  coming  to 
the  surface  with  a  delicacy  for  the  nestlings.  They 
were  able  to  dip  into  the  swift,  white  currents  and 
wrestle  with  them  without  being  washed  away.  Of 
course,  the  water  would  sometimes  carry  them  down 
stream,  but  never  more  than  a  few  inches,  and  never  to 
a  point  where  they  could  be  injured.  They  were  per- 
fect masters  of  the  situation.  They  simply  slipped  in 
and  out  like  living  chunks  of  cork.  Their  coats  were 
waterproof,  all  they  needed  to  do  being  to  shake  off"  the 
crystal  drops  now  and  then. 


A   BIRD   MISCELLANY 


167 


Their  flight  up  the  almost  perpendicular   , 
face  of  the  falls  was  one  of  graceful  celerity. 
Up,  up,  they  would  mount  only  a  few  inches 
from  the    dashing  current,   and  disappear  up- 
stream in  search  of  food.     In  returning,    they 
would  sweep  down  over  the  precipitous  falls 
with  the  swiftness  of  arrows,  stopping  them- 
selves lightly  with   their    outspread    wings 
before  reaching  the  rocks  below.      From 
a  human  point  of  view  it  was  a  frightful 
plunge ;  from  the  ousel    point  of 
view  it  was   an   every-day   affair. 

After  watching  the    tussle  be- 
tween ousel  and  water  for  a  long 
time,  I  decided  to  take  a  peep  at 
their  nursery.     In  order  to  do  this 
I  was  compelled  to  Made  into  the 
stream  a  little  below  the  falls, 
through  mist  and  spray  ;  yet 
such  humid  quarters  were  the 
natural     habitat     and    play- 
ground  of    these    interesting 
cinclids.       And  there  the  nest 
was,  set  in  a  cleft  about  a  foot  and  a  half  above 
the  water,  its  outer  walls  kept  moist  by  the  spray 
which  constantly  dashed  against  them  from  the  falls. 
The  water  was  also  dripping  from  the  rock  that  over- 


wrote r-oitsei 


a  few  inches  from 
the  dashing  current " 


168~  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

hung  the  nest  and  formed  its  roof.  A  damp,  uncanny 
place  for  a  bird's  domicile,  you  would  naturally  suppose, 
but  the  little  lovers  of  cascades  knew  what  they  were 
about.  Only  the  exterior  of  the  thick,  moss-covered 
walls  were  moist.  Within,  the  nest  was  dry  and  cosey. 
It  was  an  oval  structure,  set  in  its  rocky  cleft  like  a  small 
oven,  with  an  opening  at  the  front.  And  there  in  the 
doorway  cuddled  the  two  fledglings,  looking  out  at  the 
dripping  walls  and  the  watery  tumult,  but  kept  warm 
and  comfortable.  I  could  not  resist  touching  them  and 
caressing  their  little  heads,  considering  it  quite  an  orni- 
thological triumph  for  one  day  to  find  a  pair  of  water- 
ousels,  discover  a  nest,  and  place  my  finger  upon  the 
crowns  of  the  nestlings. 

Scores  of  tourists  visited  the  famous  falls  every  day, 
some  of  them  lingering  long  in  the  beautiful  place,  and 
yet  the  little  ousels  had  gone  on  with  their  nest-building 
and  brood-rearing,  undisturbed  by  human  spectators. 
I  wondered  whether  many  of  the  visitors  noticed  the 
birds,  and  whether  any  one  but  myself  had  discovered 
their  nest.  Indeed,  their  little  ones  were  safe  enough 
from  human  meddling,  for  one  could  not  see  the  nest 
without  wading  up  the  stream  into  the  sphere  of  the 
flying  mists. 

The  natural  home  of  Cinclus  mexicanits  is  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  to  which  he  is  restricted,  not  being  known 
anywhere  else  on  this  continent.     He  is  the  only  mem- 


^  BIRD   MISCELLANY  169 

ber  of  the  dipper  family  in  North  America.  There  is  one 
species  in  South  America,  and  another  in  Europe.  He 
loves  the  mountain  stream,  with  its  dashing  rapids  and 
cascades.  Indeed,  he  will  erect  his  oven-like  cottage 
nowhere  else,  and  it  must  be  a  fall  and  not  a  mere  ripple 
or  rapid.  Then  from  this  point  as  a  centre  —  or,  rather, 
the  middle  point  of  a  wavering  line  —  he  forages  up  and 
down  the  babbling,  meandering  brook,  feeding  chiefly, 
if  not  wholly,  on  water  insects.  Strange  to  say,  he  never 
leaves  the  streams,  never  makes  excursions  to  the 
country  roundabout,  never  flies  over  a  mountain  ridge 
or  divide  to  reach  another  valley,  but  simply  pursues 
the  winding  streams  with  a  fidelity  that  deserves  praise 
for  its  very  singleness  of  purpose.  No  "  landlubber ""  he. 
It  is  said  by  one  writer  that  the  dipper  has  never  been 
known  to  alight  on  a  tree,  preferring  a  rock  or  a  piece 
of  driftwood  beside  the  babbling  stream  ;  yet  he  has  the 
digits  and  claws  of  the  passeres,  among  which  he  is 
placed  systematically.  He  is  indeed  an  anomaly,  though 
a  very  engaging  one.  Should  he  wish  to  go  to  another 
canon,  he  will  simply  follow  the  devious  stream  he  is  on 
to  its  junction  with  the  stream  of  the  other  valley ;  then 
up  the  second  defile.  His  flight  is  exceedingly  swift. 
His  song  is  a  loud,  clear,  cheerful  strain,  the  very  quin- 
tessence of  gladness  as  it  mingles  with  the  roar  of  the 
cataracts. 

Farther  up  Ute  Pass  I  found  another  nest,  which  was 


170  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

placed  right  back  of  a  cascade,  so  that  the  birds  had  to 
dash  through  a  curtain  of  spray  to  reach  their  cot. 
They  also  were  feeding  their  young,  and  I  could  see 
them  standing  on  a  rock  beneath  the  shelf,  tilting  their 
bodies  and  scanning  me  narrowly  before  diving  into  the 
cleft  where  the  nest  was  hidden.  This  nest,  being  placed 
back  of  the  falls,  could  not  be  reached. 

In  Bear  Creek  caiion  I  discovered  another  inaccessible 
nest,  which  was  placed  in  a  fissure  at  the  very  foot  of 
the  falls  and  only  an  inch  or  two  above  the  agitated 
waters.  There  must  have  been  a  cavity  running  back 
into  the  rock,  else  the  nest  would  have  been  kept  in  a 
soggy  condition  all  the  time. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  dipper''s  nest  I  found 
was  one  at  the  celebrated  Seven  Falls  in  the  south 
Cheyenne  Caiion.  On  the  face  of  the  cliff  by  the  side 
of  the  lowest  fall  there  was  a  cleft,  in  which  the  nest 
was  placed,  looking  like  a  large  bunch  of  moss  and  grass. 
My  glass  brought  the  structure  so  near  that  I  could 
plainly  see  three  little  heads  protruding  from  the  door- 
way. There  were  a  dozen  or  more  people  about  the 
falls  at  the  time,  who  made  no  attempt  at  being  quiet, 
and  yet  the  parent  birds  flew  fearlessly  up  to  the  nest 
with  tidbits  in  their  bills,  and  were  greeted  with  loud, 
impatient  cries  from  three  hungry  mouths,  which  were 
opened  wide  to  receive  the  food.  The  total  plunge  of 
the  stream  over  the  Seven  Falls  is  hundreds  of  feet,  and 


A    BIRD   MISCELLANY 


171 


yet  the  adult  birds  would  toss  themselves  over  the  abyss 
with  reckless  abandon,  stop  themselves  without  apparent 
effort  in  front  of  their  cleft,  and  thrust  the  gathered 
morsels  into  the  little  yellow-lined  mouths.  It  was  an 
aerial  feat  that  made  our  heads  dizzy.  This  pair  of 
birds  did  not  fly  up  the  face  of  the  falls  in  ascending  to 
the  top,  as  did  those  at  Rainbow  Falls,  but 
clambered  up  the  wall  of  the  cliff  close 
to  the  side  of  the  roaring  cataract, 
aiding  themselves  with  both  claws 
and  wings.  When  gathering  food 
below  the  falls,  they  would  usually, 
in  going  or  returning,  fly  in  a  grace- 
ful curve  over  the  heads  of  their 
human  visitors. 

Although  the  dipper  is  not  a  web- 
footed  bird,  and  is  not  classed  by  the 
naturalists  among  the  aquatic  fowl, 
but  is,  indeed,  a  genuine  passerine, 
yet  he  can  swim  quite  dexterously 
on  the   surface   of  the   water. 
However,  his  greatest  strength 
and  skill  are  shown  in  swimming 
under  water,  where  he  propels  him- 
self with  his  wings,  often  to  a  con- 
siderable   distance,    either   with    or 
against  the    current.      Sometimes  he 


Three  hungry 
mouths,  which 
were  opened  wide 
to  receive  the  food 


IVater-Ousel 


172  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

will  allow  the  current  to  carry  him  a  short  distance 
down  the  stream,  but  he  is  always  able  to  stop  himself 
at  a  chosen  point.  "  Ever  and  anon,""  says  Mr.  John 
Muir,  in  his  attractive  book  on  "The  Mountains  of 
California,''  "while  searching  for  food  in  the  rushing 
stream,  he  sidles  out  to  where  the  too  powerful  current 
carries  him  off  his  feet;  then  he  dexterously  rises  on 
the  wing  and  goes  gleaning  again  in  shallower  places." 
So  it  seems  that  our  little  acrobat  is  equal  to  every 
emergency  that  may  arise  in  his  adventurous  life. 

In  winter,  when  the  rushing  mountain  streams  are 
flowing  with  the  sludge  of  the  half-melted  snow,  so  that 
he  cannot  see  the  bottom,  where  most  of  his  delicacies 
lie,  he  betakes  himself  to  the  quieter  stretches  of  the 
rivers,  or  to  the  mill  ponds  or  mountain  lakes,  where  he 
finds  clearer  and  smoother  water,  although  a  little 
deeper  than  he  usually  selects.  Such  weather  does  not 
find  him  at  the  end  of  his  resources  ;  no,  indeed  !  Hav- 
ing betaken  himself  to  a  lake,  he  does  not  at  once  plunge 
into  its  depths  after  the  manner  of  a  duck,  but  finding 
a  perch  on  a  snag  or  a  fallen  pine,  he  sits  there  a  mo- 
ment, and  then,  flying  out  thirty  or  forty  yards,  "he 
alights  with  a  dainty  glint  on  the  surface,  swims  about, 
looks  down,  finally  makes  up  his  mind,  and  disappears 
with  a  sharp  stroke  of  his  wings.""  So  says  Mr.  John 
Muir,  who  continues :  "  After  feeding  for  two  or  three 
minutes  he  suddenly  reappears,  showers  the  water  from 


A   BIRD   MISCELLANY  173 

his  wings  with  one  vigorous  shake,  and  rises  abruptly 
into  the  air  as  if  pushed  up  from  beneath,  comes  back 
to  his  perch,  sings  a  few  minutes,  and  goes  out  to  dive 
again;  thus  coming  and  going,  singing  and  diving,  at 
the  same  place  for  hours."" 

The  depths  to  which  the  cinclid  dives  for  the  food 
on  the  bottom  is  often  from  fifteen  to  twenty  feet. 
When  he  selects  a  river  instead  of  a  lake  for  his  winter 
bathing,  its  waters,  like  those  of  the  shallower  streams, 
may  also  contain  a  large  quantity  of  sludge,  thus 
rendering  them  opaque  even  to  the  sharp  little  eyes  of 
the  dipper.  Then  what  does  he  do?  He  has  a  very 
natural  and  cunning  way  of  solving  this  problem ;  he 
simply  seeks  a  deep  portion  of  the  river  and  dives 
through  the  turbid  water  to  the  clear  water  beneath, 
where  he  can  plainly  see  the  "  goodies  ^  on  the  bottom. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  this  little  bird  is  mute 
amid  all  the  watery  tumult  of  his  mountain  home,  for 
he  is  a  rare  vocalist,  his  song  mingling  with  the  ripple 
and  gurgle  and  roar  of  the  streams  that  he  haunts. 
Nor  does  he  sing  only  in  the  springtime,  but  all  the 
year  round,  on  stormy  days  as  well  as  fair.  During 
Indian  summer,  when  the  streams  are  small,  and  silence 
broods  over  many  a  mountain  solitude,  the  song  of  the 
ousel  falls  to  its  lowest  ebb;  but  when  winter  comes 
and  the  streams  are  converted  into  rolling  torrents,  he 
resumes  his  vocal  efforts,  which  reach  their  height  in 


174 


BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 


early  summer.  Thus  it  would  seem  that  the  bird''s 
mood  is  the  gayest  when  his  favorite  stream  is  dashing 
at  its  noisiest  and  most  rapid  pace  down  the  steep 
mountain  defiles.  The  clamor  of  the  stream  often 
drowns  the  song  of  the  bird,  the  movement  of  his 
mandibles  being  seen  when  not  a  sound  from  his  music- 
box  can  be  heard.  There  must  be  a  feeling  of  fellow- 
ship between  the  bird  and  the  stream  he  loves  so  well. 
You  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  the  dipper 
is  an  extremely  hardy  bird.  No  snowstorm,  however 
violent,  can  discourage  him,  but  in  the  midst  of  it  all 
he  sings  his  most  cheerful  lays,  as  if  defying  all  the  gods 
of  the  winds.  While  other  birds,  even  the  hardy  nut- 
hatches, often  succumb  to  discouragement  in  cold  wea- 
ther, and  move  about  with  flufTed-up  feathers,  the  very 
picture  of  dejection  —  not  so  the  little  dipper,  who  al- 
ways preserves  his  cheerful  temper,  and  is  ready  to  say, 
in  acts,  if  not  in  words  :  "  Is  n'*t  this  the  j oiliest 
weather  you  ever  saw  ?  "  Away  up  in  Alaska, 
where  the  glaciers  hold  perpetual  sway, 
this  bird  has  been  seen  in  the  month 
of  November  as  glad  and  blithesome 
as  were  his  comrades  in  the  sunmiery 
gorges  of  New  Mexico. 

/ 


"  No  snowstorm  can  discourage  him  " 


PLAINS   AND   FOOTHILLS 


Plate  V 


Louisiana  Tanager — Pijranga  ludoviciana 
(Upper  figure,  male;  lower,  female) 


PLAINS   AND   FOOTHILLS 

THE  foregoing  chapters  contain  a  recital  of  ob- 
servations made  in  the  neighborhood  of  Colo- 
rado Springs  and  in  trips  on  the  plains  and 
among  the  mountains  in  that  latitude.  Two  years  later 
—  that  is,  in  1901  —  the  rambler''s  good  angel  again 
smiled  upon  him  and  made  possible  another  tour  among 
the  Colorado  mountains.  This  time  he  made  Denver, 
instead  of  Colorado  Springs,  the  centre  of  operations ; 
nor  did  he  go  alone,  his  companion  being  an  active  boy 
of  fourteen  who  has  a  penchant  for  Butterflies,  while 
that  of  the  writer,  as  need  scarcely  be  said,  is  for  the 
Birds  —  in  our  estimation,  the  two  cardinal  B's  of  the 
English  language.  Imagine  two  inveterate  ramblers, 
then,  with  two  such  enchanting  hobbies,  set  loose  on  the 
Colorado  plains  and  in  the  mountains,  with  the  prospect 
of  a  month  of  uninterrupted  indulgence  in  their  manias  ! 
In  the  account  of  my  first  visit,  most  of  the  species 
met  with  were  described  in  detail  both  as  to  their  habits 
and  personal  appearance.  In  the  present  record  no 
such  minutiae  will  be  necessary  so  far  as  the  same  species 
were  observed,  and  therefore  the  chief  objects  of  the 
12  177 


178  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

following  chapters  will  be,  first,  to  note  the  diversities 
in  the  avian  fauna  of  the  two  regions ;  second,  to  give 
special  attention  to  such  birds  as  either  were  not  seen 
in  my  first  visit  or  were  for  some  cause  partly  overlooked  ; 
and,  third,  to  trace  the  peculiar  transitions  in  bird  life 
in  passing  from  the  plains  about  Denver  to  the  crest  of 
Gray's  Peak,  including  jaunts  to  several  other  localities. 

In  my  rambles  in  the  neighborhood  of  Denver  only  a 
few  species  not  previously  described  were  observed,  and 
yet  there  were  some  noteworthy  points  of  difference  in 
the  avi-fauna  of  the  two  latitudes,  which  are  only  about 
seventy-five  miles  apart.  It  will  perhaps  be  remembered 
that,  in  the  vicinity  of  Colorado  Springs  and  Manitou, 
the  pretty  lazuli  buntings  were  quite  rare  and  exceed- 
ingly shy,  only  two  or  three  individuals  having  been  seen. 
The  reverse  was  the  case  in  the  suburbs  of  Denver  and 
on  the  irrigated  plains  between  that  city  and  the  moun- 
tains, and  also  in  the  neighborhood  of  Boulder,  where 
in  all  suitable  haunts  the  lazulis  were  constantly  at  my 
elbow,  lavish  enough  of  their  pert  little  melodies  to 
satisfy  the  most  exacting,  and  almost  as  familiar  and 
approachable  as  the  indigo-birds  of  the  East.  It  is  pos- 
sible that,  for  the  most  part,  the  blue-coated  beauties 
prefer  a  more  northern  latitude  than  Colorado  Springs 
for  the  breeding  season. 

At  the  latter  place  I  failed  to  find  the  burrowing  owl, 
although  there  can  be  little  doubt  of  his  presence  there, 


PLAINS   AND   FOOTHILLS 


179 


especially  out  on  the  plains.  Not  far  from  Denver  one 
of  these  uncanny,  sepulchral  birds  was  seen,  having  been 
frightened  from  her  tunnel  as  I  came  stalking  near  it. 
She  flew  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  in  her  smooth,  silent 


'^'^ipfA;     ^*l% 


k^- 


way,  and  uttered  no  syl- 
lable of  protest  as  I  examined 
her  domicile  —  or,  rather,  the 
outside  of  it.  Scattered  about 
the  dark  doorway  were  a  number  of  bones,  feathers, 
and  the  skin  of  a  frog,  telling  the  story  of  the  table 
d'hote  set  by  this  underground  dweller  before  her  nest- 
lings. She  might  have  put  up  the  crossbones  and 
skull  as  a  sign  at  the  entrance  to  her  burrow,  or  even 
placed  there  the  well-known  Dantean  legend,  "  All  hope 
abandon,  ye  who  enter  here,^'  neither  of  which  would 
have  been  more  suggestive  than  the  telltale  litter  piled 
up  before  her  door.  When  I  chased  her  from  her 
hiding-place,  she  flew  down  the  hill  and  alighted  on  a 
fence-post  in  the  neighborhood  of  her  nest,  uttering 
several  screechy  notes  as  I  came  near  her  again,  as  if  she 


The  dark 
doorway  " 


180  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

meant  to  say  that  I  was  carrying  the  joke  a  little  too 
far  in  pursuing  her  about.  Presently  she  circled  away 
on  oily  wings,  and  I  saw  her  no  more. 

So  little  enthusiasm  does  such  a  bird  stir  within  me 
that  I  felt  too  lazy  to  follow  her  about  on  the  arid 
plain.  It  may  be  interesting  as  a  matter  of  scientific 
information  to  know  that  the  burrowing  owl  breeds  in 
a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  keeps  company  with  the 
prairie  dog  and  the  rattlesnake,  but  a  bird  that  lives  in 
a  gloomy,  malodorous  cave,  whose  manners  are  far  from 
attractive,  and  whose  voice  sounds  as  strident  as  a  buzz- 
saw  —  surely  such  a  bird  can  cast  no  spell  upon  the 
observer  who  is  interested  in  the  aesthetic  side  of  bird 
nature.  A  recent  writer,  in  describing  "A  Buzzards' 
Banquet,"  asks  a  couple  of  pregnant  questions :  '*  Is 
there  anything  ugly  out  of  doors?  Can  the  ardent, 
sympathetic  lover  of  nature  ever  find  her  unlovely  ? "" 
To  the  present  writer  these  questions  present  no  Chi- 
nese puzzle.  He  simply  brushes  all  speculation  and 
theorizing  aside  by  responding  "  Yes,"  to  both  inter- 
rogatories, on  the  principle  that  it  is  sometimes  just  as 
well  to  cut  the  Gordian  knot  as  to  waste  precious  time 
trying  to  untie  it.  The  burrowing  owl  makes  me  think 
of  a  denizen  of  the  other  side  of  the  river  Styx,  and 
why  should  one  try  to  love  that  which  nature  has  made 
unattractive,  especially  when  one  cannot  help  one's 
feeling  ? 


PLAINS   AND   FOOTHILLS  181 

In  the  preceding  chronicles  no  mention,  I  believe,  has 
been  made  of  one  little  bird  that  deserves  more  than  a 
mere  obiter  dictum.  My  first  meeting  with  the  blithe- 
some house-finch  of  the  West  occurred  in  the  city  of 
Denver,  in  1899.  It  could  not  properly  be  called  a 
formal  presentment,  but  was  none  the  less  welcome  on 
that  account.  I  had  scarcely  stepped  out  upon  the 
busy  street  before  my  ear  was  accosted  by  a  kind  of 
half  twitter  and  half  song  that  was  new  to  me.  "  Surely 
that  is  not  the  racket  of  the  English  sparrow  ;  it  is  too 
musical,"  I  remarked  to  a  friend  walking  by  my  side. 

Peering  among  the  trees  and  houses,  I  presently  fo- 
cussed  my  field-glass  upon  a  small,  finch-like  bird  whose 
coat  was  striped  with  gray  and  brown,  and  whose  face, 
crown,  breast,  and  rump  were  beautifully  tinged  or 
washed  with  crimson,  giving  him  quite  a  dressy  appear- 
ance. What  could  this  chipper  little  city  chap  be,  with 
his  trig  form  and  well-bred  manners,  in  such  marked 
contrast  with  those  of  the  swaggering  English  sparrow  ? 
Afterwards  he  was  identified  as  the  house-finch,  which 
rejoices  in  the  high-sounding  Latin  name  of  Carpodacus 
mexicanus  frontalis.  His  distribution  is  restricted  to 
the  Rocky  Mountain  district  chiefly  south  of  the 
fortieth  parallel  of  north  latitude. 

He  is  certainly  an  attractive  species,  and  I  wish  we 
could  offer  sufficient  inducements  to  bring  him  east.  A 
bird  like  him  is  a  boon  and  an  ornament  to  the  streets 


182  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

and  parks  of  any  city  that  he  gi^ces  with  his  presence 
and  enlivens  with  his  songs.  No  selfish  recluse  is  he ; 
no,  indeed  !  In  no  dark  gulch  or  wilderness,  far  from 
human  neighborhood,  does  he  sulkily  take  up  his  abode, 
but  prefers  the  companionship  of  man  to  the  solitudes 
of  nature,  declaring  in  all  his  conduct  that  he  likes  to 
be  where  there  are  "  folks.""  In  this  respect  he  bears 
likeness  to  the  English  sparrow ;  but  let  it  be  remem- 
bered that  there  the  analogy  stops.  Even  his  chirrup- 
ing is  musical  as  he  flies  overhead,  or  makes  his  caveat 
from  a  tree  or  a  telegraph  wire  against  your  ill-bred 
espionage.  He  and  his  plainly  clad  little  spouse  build 
a  neat  cottage  for  their  bairns  about  the  houses,  but 
do  not  clog  the  spouting  and  make  themselves  a 
nuisance  otherwise,  as  is  the  habit  of  their  English 
cousins. 

This  finch  is  a  minstrel,  not  of  the  first  class,  still  one 
that  merits  a  high  place  among  the  minor  songsters; 
and,  withal,  he  is  generous  with  his  music.  You  might 
call  him  a  kind  of  urban  Arion,  for  there  is  real  melody 
in  his  little  score.  As  he  is  an  early  riser,  his  matin 
voluntaries  often  mingled  with  my  half-waking  dreams 
in  the  morning  at  dawn's  peeping,  and  I  loved  to  hear 
it  too  well  to  be  angry  for  being  aroused  at  an  unseason- 
able hour.  The  song  is  quite  a  complicated  perform- 
ance at  its  best,  considerably  prolonged  and  varied, 
running  up  and  down  the  chromatic  scale  with  a  swing 


PLAINS  AND   FOOTHILLS  183 

and  gallop,  and  delivered  with  great  rapidity,  as  if  the 
lyrist  were  in  a  hurry  to  have  done,  so  that  he  could 
get  at  something  else. 

In  my  rambles  he  was  found  not  only  in  the  cities 
of  the  plains  (Denver,  Colorado  Springs,  and  Pueblo), 
but  also  in  many  of  the  mountain  towns  and  villages 
visited,  Leadville,  over  ten  thousand  feet  skyward,  being, 
I  believe,  one  of  the  exceptions,  while  Silver  Plume  and 
Graymont  were  others.  He  does  not  fancy  altitudes,  I 
take  it,  much  over  eight  thousand  feet.  In  the  villages 
of  Red  Cliff  and  Glen  wood,  both  beyond  the  conti- 
nental divide,  he  was  the  same  sprightly  citizen,  mak- 
ing himself  very  much  at  home. 

Much  as  this  finch  cherishes  the  society  of  man,  he 
is  quite  wary  and  suspicious,  and  does  not  fancy  being 
watched.  As  long  as  you  go  on  your  way  without 
seeming  to  notice  him,  he  also  goes  his  way,  coming 
into  plain  sight  and  chirping  and  singing  ;  but  just 
stop  to  watch  him  with  your  binocular,  and  see  how 
quickly  he  will  take  alarm,  dart  away,  and  ensconce 
himself  behind  a  clump  of  foliage,  uttering  a  protest 
which  seems  to  say,  "  Why  does  n't  that  old  fellow  go 
about  his  own  business  ?  "  If  in  some  w  ay  the  Ameri- 
can house-finch  could  be  persuaded  to  come  east,  and 
the  English  sparrow  could  be  given  papers  of  extra- 
dition, the  exchange  would  be  a  relief  and  a  benefit 
to  the  whole  country. 


184  BIRDS    OF    THE    ROCKIES 

Some  idyllic  days  were  spent  in  sauntering  about 
Golden,  which  keeps  guard  at  the  entrance  of  Clear 
Creek  Canon,  and  has  tucked  itself  in  a  beautiful 
valley  among  the  foothills,  which  in  turn  stand  sen- 
tinel over  it.  In  the  village  itself  and  along  the  bush- 
fringed  border  of  the  creek  below,  as  well  as  in  the 
little  park  at  its  border,  there  were  many  birds,  nearly 
all  of  which  have  been  described  in  the  previous  chap- 
ters. However,  several  exceptions  are  worthy  of  note. 
A  matted  copse  a  mile  and  a  half  below  the  town 
afforded  a  hiding-place  for  three  young  or  female  red- 
starts, which  were  "playing  buttei^fly,"  as  usual,  and 
chanting  their  vivacious  little  tunes.  These  and  several 
near  Boulder  were  the  only  redstarts  seen  in  my  Colo- 
rado wanderings,  although  Professor  Cooke  says  they 
breed  sparingly  on  the  plains,  and  a  little  more  com- 
monly in  the  mountains  to  an  altitude  of  eight  thousand 
feet,  while  one  observer  saw  a  female  in  July  at  the 
timber-line,  which  is  three  thousand  feet  above  the  nor- 
mal range  of  the  species.  Why  did  not  this  birdlet 
remain  within  the  bounds  set  by  the  scientific  guild  ? 
Suit  for  contempt  of  court  should  be  brought  against 
it.  Redstarts  must  have  been  very  scarce  in  the  regions 
over  which  I  rambled,  else  I  certainly  should  have 
noticed  birds  that  are  so  fearless  and  so  lavish  of  song. 

One  day  my  companion  and  I  clambered  up  the 
steep  side   of  a   mesa  some  distance  below   Golden — 


PLAINS    AND    FOOTHILLS  185 

that  is,  the  base  of  the  mesa  was  below  the  village, 
while  its  top  towered  far  above  it.  A  mesa  was  a 
structural  portion  of  Colorado  topography  that  neither 
of  the  two  ramblers  had  yet  explored,  and  we  were 
anxious  to  know  something  about  its  resources  from  a 
natural  history  point  of  view.  It  was  hard  climbing  on 
account  of  the  steepness  of  the  acclivity,  its  rocky  char- 
acter, and  the  thick  network  of  bushes  and  brambles  in 
many  places  ;  but  "  excelsior  "  was  our  motto  in  all  our 
mountaineering,  and  we  allowed  no  surmountable  diffi- 
culties to  daunt  us.  What  birds  select  such  steep 
places  for  a  habitat  ?  Here  lived  in  happy  domesticity 
the  lyrical  green-tailed  towhee,  the  bird  of  the  liquid 
voice,  the  poet  laureate  of  the  steep,  bushy  mountain 
sides,  just  as  the  water-ousel  is  the  poet  of  the  cascades 
far  down  in  the  caiions  and  gulches ;  here  also  thrived 
the  spurred  towhees,  one  of  which  had  tucked  a  nest 
beneath  a  bush  cradling  three  speckled  eggs.  This  was 
the  second  nest  of  this  species  I  had  found,  albeit  not 
the  last.  Here  also  dwelt  the  rock  wren,  a  little  bird 
that  was  new  to  me  and  that  I  had  not  found  in  the 
latitude  of  Colorado  Springs  either  east  or  vvest  of  the 
continental  divide.  A  description  of  this  anchorite  of 
the  rocks  will  be  given  in  a  later  chapter.  I  simply 
pause  here  to  remark  that  he  has  a  sort  of  "  monarch- 
of-all-I-survey "  air  as  he  sits  on  a  tall  sandstone  rock 
and  blows  the  music  from  his  Huon's  horn  on  the  mes- 


186  BIRDS    OF    THE    ROCKIES 

senger  breezes.  His  wild  melodies,  often  sounding  like 
a  blast  from  a  bugle,  are  in  perfect  concord  with  the 
wild  and  rugged  acclivities  which  he  haunts,  from  which 
he  can  command  many  a  prospect  that  pleases,  whether 
he  glances  down  into  the  valleys  or  up  to  the  silver- 
capped  mountain  peaks.  One  cannot  help  feeling — at 
least,  after  one  has  left  his  rock-strewn  dwelling-place 
— that  a  kind  of  glamour  hangs  about  it  and  him. 

The  loud  hurly-burly  of  the  long-tailed  chat  reached 
us  from  a  bushy  hollow  not  far  away.  So  far  as  I  could 
determine,  this  fellow  is  as  garrulous  a  churl  and  bully 
as  his  yellow-breasted  cousin  so  well  known  in  the  East. 
(Afterwards  I  found  the  chats  quite  numerous  at 
Boulder.)  At  length  we  scaled  the  cliffs,  and  presently 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  mesa,  which  we  found  to  be  a 
somewhat  rolling  plateau,  looking  much  like  the  plains 
themselves  in  general  features,  with  here  and  there  a 
hint  of  verdure,  on  which  a  herd  of  cattle  were  graz- 
ing. The  pasture  was  the  buffalo  grass.  Does  the  bird- 
lover  ask  what  species  dwell  on  a  treeless  mesa  like  this  ? 
It  was  the  home  of  western  grassfinches,  western  mead- 
ow-larks, turtle  doves,  desert  horned  larks,  and  a  little 
bird  that  was  new  to  me,  evidently  Brewer's  sparrow. 
Its  favorite  resort  was  in  the  low  bushes  growing  on  the 
border  of  the  mesa  and  along  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  Its 
song  was  unique,  the  opening  syllable  running  low  on 
the  alto  clef,  while  the  closing  notes  constituted  a  very 


PLAINS   AND   FOOTHILLS  187 

respectable  soprano.  A  few  extremely  shy  sparrows 
flitted  about  in  the  thickets  of  a  hollow  as  we  began 
our  descent,  and  I  have  no  doubt  they  were  Lincoln's 
sparrows. 

The  valley  and  the  irrigated  plain  were  the  birds' 
elysium.  Here  we  first  saw  and  heard  that  captivating 
bird,  the  lark  bunting,  as  will  be  fully  set  forth  in  the 
closing  chapter.  This  was  one  of  the  birds  that  had 
escaped  me  in  my  first  visit  to  Colorado,  save  as  I  had 
caught  tantalizing  glimpses  of  him  from  the  car- window 
on  the  plain  beyond  Denver,  and  when  I  went  south  to 
Colorado  Springs,  I  utterly  failed  to  find  him.  It  has 
been  a  sort  of  riddle  to  me  that  not  one  could  be  dis- 
covered in  that  vicinity,  while  two  years  later  these 
birds  were  abundant  on  the  plains  both  east  and  west 
of  Denver.  If  Colorado  Springs  is  a  little  too  far  south 
for  them  in  the  summer,  Denver  is  obviously  just  to 
their  liking.  No  less  abundant  were  the  western  mead- 
ow-larks, which  flew  and  sang  with  a  kind  of  lyrical 
intoxication  over  the  green  alfalfa  fields. 

One  morning  we  decided  to  walk  some  distance  up 
Clear  Creek  Canon.  At  the  opening  of  the  canon. 
Brewer's  blackbirds  were  scuttling  about  in  the  bushes 
that  broidered  the  steep  banks  of  the  tumultuous  stream, 
and  a  short  distance  up  in  the  gorge  a  lazuli  bunting 
sat  on  a  telegraph  wire  and  piped  his  merry  lay.  Soon 
the  caiion  narrowed,  grew  dark  and  forbidding,  and  the 


188  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

steep  walls  rose  high  on  both  sides,  compelling  the  rail- 
way to  creep  like  a  half-imprisoned  serpent  along  the 
foot  of  the  cliffs  ;  then  the  birds  disappeared,  not  caring 
to  dwell  in  such  dark,  more  than  half-immured  places. 
Occasionally  a  magpie  could  be  seen  sailing  overhead 
at  an  immense  height,  crossing  over  from  one  hillside  to 
the  other,  turning  his  head  as  he  made  the  transit,  to 
get  a  view  of  the  two  peripatetics  in  the  gulch  below, 
anxious  to  discover  whether  they  were  bent  on  brigand- 
age of  any  kind. 

At  length  we  reached  a  point  where  the  mountain 
side  did  not  look  so  steep  as  elsewhere,  and  we  decided 
to  scale  it.  From  the  railway  it  looked  like  a  short 
climb,  even  if  a  little  difficult,  and  we  began  it  with 
only  a  slight  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  our  undertaking. 
The  fact  is,  mountain  climbing  is  a  good  deal  more  than 
pastime  ;  it  amounts  to  work,  downright  hard  work. 
In  the  present  instance,  no  sooner  had  we  gained  one 
height  than  another  loomed  steep  and  challenging 
above  us,  so  that  we  climbed  the  mountain  by  a  series 
of  immense  steps  or  terraces.  At  places  the  acclivity 
was  so  steep  that  we  were  compelled  to  scramble  over 
the  rocks  on  all  fours,  and  were  glad  to  stop  frequently 
and  draw  breath  and  rest  our  tired  limbs.  My  boy 
comrade,  having  fewer  things  than  I  to  lure  him  by 
the  way,  and  being,  perhaps,  a  little  more  agile  as 
well,  went   far  on  ahead  of  me,  often  standing  on  a 


PLAINS   AND   FOOTHILLS  189 

dizzy  pinnacle  of  rock,  and  waving  his  butterfly-net  or 
his  cap  in  the  air,  and  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice 
to  encourage  his  lagging  parent  and  announce  his 
triumph  as  a  mountaineer. 

However,  the  birdman  can  never  forget  his  hobby. 
There  were  a  few  birds  on  that  precipitous  mountain 
side,  and  that  lent  it  its  chief  attraction.  At  one 
place  a  spurred  towhee  flitted  about  in  a  bushy  clump 
and  called  much  like  a  catbird  —  an  almost  certain 
proof  of  a  nest  on  the  steep,  rocky  wall  far  up  from 
the  roaring  torrent  in  the  gorge  below.  On  a  stony 
ridge  still  farther  up,  a  rock  wren  was  ringing  his  pecul- 
iar score,  which  sounds  so  much  like  a  challenge,  while 
still  farther  up,  in  a  cluster  of  stunted  pines,  a  long- 
crested  jay  lilted  about  and  called  petulantly,  until  I 
came  near,  when  he  swung  across  the  canon,  and  I  saw 
him  no  more. 

After  a  couple  of  hours  of  hard  climbing,  we  reached 
the  summit,  from  which  we  were  afforded  a  magnificent 
view  of  the  foothills,  the  mesas,  and  the  stretching  plains 
below  us,  while  above  us  to  the  west  hills  rose  on  hills 
until  they  culminated  in  mighty  snow-capped  peaks  and 
ridges.  It  must  not  be  supposed,  because  the  snow- 
mantled  summits  in  the  west  loomed  far  above  our 
present  station,  that  this  mountain  which  we  had  as- 
cended was  a  comparatively  insignificant  affkir.  The 
fact  is,  it  was  of  huge  bulk  and  great  height  measured 


190  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

from  its  base  in  the  canon ;  almost  as  much  of  a  moun- 
tain, in  itself  considered,  as  Gray's  Peak.  It  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  the  snowy  peaks  were  from  thirty 
to  forty  miles  away,  and  that  there  is  a  gradual  ascent 
the  entire  distance  to  the  upper  valleys  and  gorges 
which  creep  about  the  bases  of  the  loftiest  peaks  and 
ridges.  A  mountain  rising  from  the  foothills  may  be 
almost  as  bulky  and  high  and  precipitous  as  one  of  the 
alpine  peaks  covered  with  eternal  snow.  Its  actual  alti- 
tude above  sea-level  may  be  less  by  many  thousand  feet, 
while  its  height  from  the  surrounding  canons  and  valleys 
may  be  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  great.  The  alpine  peaks 
have  the  advantage  of  majesty  of  situation,  because  the 
general  level  of  the  country  from  which  they  rise  is  very 
high.  There  we  stood  at  a  sort  of  outdoor  halfway 
house  between  the  plains  and  the  towering  ridges,  and 
I  can  only  say  that  the  view  was  superb. 

There  were  certain  kinds  of  birds  which  had  brought 
their  household  gods  to  the  mountain's  crest.  Lewis's 
woodpeckers  ambled  about  over  the  summit  and  rocky 
ridges,  catching  insects  on  the  wing,  as  is  their  wont. 
Some  distance  below  the  summit  a  pair  of  them  had 
a  nest  in  a  dead  pine  snag,  from  the  orifice  of  which 
one  was  seen  to  issue.  A  mother  hawk  was  feeding  a 
couple  of  youngsters  on  the  snarly  branch  of  a  dead 
pine.  Almost  on  the  summit  a  western  nighthawk 
sprang  up  from  my  feet.     On  the  bare  ground,  without 


PLAINS   AND   FOOTHILLS  191 

the  faintest  sign  of  a  nest,  lay  her  two  speckled  eggs, 
which  she  had  been  brooding.  She  swept  around  above 
the  summit  in  immense  zigzag  spirals  while  I  examined 
her  roofless  dwelling-place.  It  was  interesting  to  one 
bird-lover,  at  least,  to  know  that  the  nighthawk  breeds 
in  such  places.  Like  their  eastern  congeners,  the 
western  nighthawks  are  fond  of  "  booming."  At  inter- 
vals a  magpie  would  swing  across  the  canon,  looking 
from  side  to  side,  the  impersonation  of  cautious  shy- 
ness. A  few  rods  below  the  crest  a  couple  of  rock 
wrens  were  flitting  about  some  large  rocks,  creeping 
in  and  out  among  the  crevices  like  gray  mice,  and  at 
length  one  of  them  slyly  fed  a  well-fledged  youngster. 
This  proves  that  these  birds,  like  many  of  their  con- 
geners, are  partial  to  a  commanding  lookout  for  a 
nesting  site.  These  were  the  only  occupants  of  the 
mountain''s  brow  at  the  time  of  our  visit,  although  in 
one  of  the  hollows  below  us  the  spurred  and  green- 
tailed  towhees  were  rendering  a  selection  from  Haydn's 
"  Creation,""  probably  "  The  heavens  are  telling.'" 

No  water  was  to  be  found  from  the  bottom  of  the 
canon  to  the  summit  of  the  mountain ;  all  was  as  dry 
as  the  plain  itself.  The  feathered  tenants  of  the  dizzy 
height  were  doubtless  compelled  to  fly  down  into  the 
gorge  for  drinking  and  bathing  purposes,  and  then 
wing  up  again  to  the  summit  —  certainly  no  light  task 
for  such  birds  as  the  wrens  and  towhees. 


192  BIRDS    OF   THE    ROCKIES 

Before  daybreak  one  morning  I  made  my  way  to  a 
small  park  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village  to  listen 
to  the  birds'  matutinal  concert.  The  earliest  singers 
were  the  western  robins,  which  began  their  carols  at  the 
first  hint  of  the  coming  dawn ;  the  next  to  break  the 
silence  were  the  western  wood-pewees  ;  then  the  summer 
warblers  chimed  in,  followed  by  the  western  grass- 
finches,  Bullock's  orioles,  meadow-larks,  and  lark  spar- 
rows, in  the  order  named.  Before  daylight  had  fully 
come  a  family  of  mountain  bluebirds  were  taking  their 
breakfast  at  the  border  of  the  park,  while  their  human 
relatives  were  still  snoring  in  bed.  The  bluebirds 
are  governed  by  old-fashioned  rules  even  in  this  very 
*'  modern  "  age,  among  their  maxims  being,  — 

"  Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise, 
Makes  bluebirds  healthy  and  wealthy  and  wise." 

Just  now  I  came  across  a  pretty  conceit  of  John  B. 
Tabb,  which  more  aptly  sets  off  the  mountain  blue 
than  it  does  his  eastern  relative,  and  which  I  cannot 
forbear  quoting : 

"  When  God  made  a  host  of  them, 
One  little  flower  lacked  a  stem 

To  hold  its  blossom  blue  ; 
So  into  it  He  breathed  a  song. 
And  suddenly,  with  petals  strong 

As  wings,  away  it  flew. " 

And  there  is  Eben  E.  Rexford,  who  almost  loses 
himself  in  a  tangle  of  metaphors  in  his  efforts  to  express 


PLAINS   AND   FOOTHILLS  193 

his  admiration  of  this  bird  with  the  cerulean  plumes. 
Hark  to  his  rhapsody  : 

♦'  Winged  lute  that  we  call  a  bluebird,  you  blend  in  a  silver  strain 
The  sound  of  the  laughing  waters,  the  patter  of  spring's  sweet  rain. 
The  voice  of  the  winds,  the  sunshine,  and  fragrance  of  blossoming 

things ; 
Ah  !  you  are  an  April  poem  that  God  has  dowered  with  wings." 

On  our  return  to  the  plains  from  a  two  weeks'  trip  to 
Georgetown  and  Gray"'s  Peak,  we  spent  several  days 
at  Arvada,  a  village  about  halfway  between  Denver 
and  Golden.  The  place  was  rife  with  birds,  all  of 
which  are  described  in  other  chapters  of  this  volume.^ 
Mention  need  be  made  here  only  of  the  song-sparrows, 
which  were  seen  in  a  bushy  place  through  which  a 
purling  stream  wound  its  way.  Of  course,  they  were 
Melospiza  fasciata  montana,  but  their  clear,  bell-like 
trills  were  precise  copies  of  those  of  the  meiTy  lowland 
minstrels  of  the  East.  Special  attention  is  called  to 
the  fact  that,  in  my  first  visit  to  Colorado,  the  only 
place  in  which  mountain  song-spaiTows  were  met  with 
was  Buena  Vista,  quite  a  distance  up  among  the  moun- 
tains, while  in  the  visit  now  being  described  they  were 
not  found  anywhere  in  the  mountains,  save  in  the  vale 

1  I  find  I  have  overlooked  the  western  Maryland  yellow-throat, 
which  was  seen  here ;  also  near  Colorado  Springs,  and  in  several 
other  bushy  spots,  only  on  the  plains.  It  seldom  ascends  into  the 
mountains,  never  far.  Its  song  and  habits  are  similar  to  those  of 
its  eastern  congener. 

13 


194  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

below  Cassels.  They  were  breeding  at  Arvada,  for 
a  female  was  seen  carrying  a  worm  in  her  bill,  and  I 
am  sure  a  nest  might  easily  have  been  found  had 
I  not  been  so  busily  occupied  in  the  study  of  other 
and  rarer  species.  However,  the  recollection  of  the 
merry  lyrists  with  the  speckled  breasts  and  silvery 
voices,  brings  to  mind  Mr.  Ernest  Thompson  Seton's 
"Myth  of  the  Song-Sparrow,'"*  from  which  it  will  be 
seen  that  this  attractive  bird  has  had  something  of  an 
adventurous  career : 

"  His  mother  was  the  Brook,  his  sisters  were  the  Reeds, 
And  they  every  one  applauded  when  he  sang  about  his  deeds. 
His  vest  was  white,  his  mantle  brown,  as  clear  as  they  could  be. 
And  his  songs  were  fairly  bubbling  o'er  with  melody  and  glee. 
But  an  envious  Neighbor  splashed  with  mud  our  Brownie's  coat 

and  vest. 
And  then  a  final  handful  threw  that  stuck  upon  his  breast. 
The  Brook-bird's  mother  did  her  best  to  wash  the  stains  away. 
But  there  they  stuck,  and,  as  it  seems,  are  very  like  to  stay. 
And  so  he  wears  the  splashes  and  the  mud  blotch,  as  you  see  ; 
But  his  songs  are  bubbling  over  still  with  melody  and  glee. " 


His  songs  are       p^- 
bubbling  over 
still  with  melody        f 
and  glee '"' 


Song  Sparrow 


RAMBLES   ABOUT   GEORGETOWN 


RAMBLES  ABOUT   GEORGETOWN 

AT  nine  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  June  22,  the 
two  ramblers  boarded  a  Colorado  and  Southern 
train,  and  bowled  up  Clear  Creek  Canon  to 
Georgetown.  Having  been  studying  winged  creatures 
on  the  plains  and  among  the  foothills,  mesas,  and  lower 
mountains,  we  now  proposed  to  go  up  among  the 
mountains  that  were  mountains  in  good  earnest,  and 
see  what  we  could  find. 

The  village  of  Georgetown  nestles  in  a  deep  pocket 
of  the  mountains.  The  valley  is  quite  narrow,  and  on 
three  sides,  save  where  the  two  branches  of  Clear  Creek 
have  hewn  out  their  canons,  the  ridges  rise  at  a  sharp 
angle  to  a  towering  height,  while  here  and  there  a 
white-cap  peeps  out  through  the  depressions.  Those 
parts  of  the  narrow  vale  that  are  irrigated  by  the  creek 
and  its  numerous  tiny  tributaries  are  beautiful  in  their 
garb  of  green,  while  the  areas  that  are  not  thus  refreshed 
are  as  gray  as  the  arid  portions  of  the  plains  them- 
selves.    And   that  is   the  case  everywhere  among  the 

197 


198  BIRDS    OF   THE    ROCKIES 

Rockies  —  where  no  water  flows  over  the  surface  the 
porous,  sandy  soil  is  dry  and  parched.  The  altitude 
of  Georgetown  is  eight  thousand  four  hundred  and 
seventy-six  feet.  We  were  therefore  three  thousand 
feet  higher  than  we  had  been  in  the  morning,  and  had 
a  right  to  expect  a  somewhat  different  avi-fauna,  an 
expectation  in  which  we  were  not  disappointed. 

Our  initial  ramble  took  us  down  the  valley.  The 
first  bird  noted  was  a  familiar  one  —  the  warbling  vireo, 
which  is  very  abundant  in  Colorado  in  its  favorite  local- 
ities, where  all  day  you  may  be  lulled  by  its  "  silvery 
converse,  just  begun  and  never  ended."  No  descrip- 
tion of  a  bird  so  well  known  in  both  the  East  and  the 
West  is  required,  but  the  one  seen  that  day  gave 
a  new  performance,  which  seems  to  be  worthy  of  more 
than  a  passing  notice.  Have  other  bird  students  ob- 
served it  ?  The  bird  was  first  seen  flitting  about  in 
the  trees  bordering  the  street ;  then  it  flew  to  its  little 
pendent  nest  in  the  twigs.  1  turned  my  glass  upon  it, 
and,  behold,  there  it  sat  in  its  tiny  hammock  singing 
its  mercurial  tune  at  the  top  of  its  voice.  It  continued 
its  solo  during  the  few  minutes  I  stopped  to  watch  it, 
glancing  over  the  rim  of  its  nest  at  its  auditor  with 
a  pert  gleam  in  its  twinkling  eyes.  That  was  the  first 
and  only  time  I  have  ever  seen  a  bird  indulging  its 
lyrical  whim  while  it  sat  on  its  nest.  Whether  the 
bird  was  a  male  or  a  female  I  could  not  determine,  but. 


RAMBLES   ABOUT  GEORGETOWN  199 

whatever   its  sex,  its  little  bosom  was   bubbling    over 
with  music. ^ 

It  was  soon  evident  that  the  western  robins  were 
abundant  about  Georgetown,  as  they  were  on  the  plains 
and  among  the  foothills.  They  were  principally  en- 
gaged just  now  in  feeding  their  young,  which  had 
already  left  their  nests.  Presently  I  shall  have  more 
to  say  about  these  birds.  Just  now  I  was  aware  of 
some  little  strangers  darting  about  in  the  air,  uttering 
a  fine,  querulous  note,  and  at  length  descending  to  the 
ground  to  feast  daintily  on  the  seeds  of  a  low  plant. 
Here  I  could  see  them  plainly  with  my  glass,  for  they 
gave  me  gracious  permission  to  go  quite  near  them. 
Their  backs  were  striped,  the  predominant  color  being 
brown  or  dark  gray,  while  the  whitish  under  parts 
were  streaked  with  dusk,  and  there  were  yellow  decora- 
tions on  the  wings  and  tails,  whether  the  birds  were 
at  rest  or  in  flight.     When  the  wings  were  spread  and 


1  After  the  foregoing  was  written,  I  chanced  upon  the  following 
note  in  "  Bird  Lore  "  for  September  and  October,  1901,  written  by 
a  lady  at  Moline,  Illinois,  who  had  made  an  early  morning  visit 
to  the  haunt  of  a  warWing  vireo :  "Seated  on  the  ground,  in  a 
convenient  place  for  watching  the  vireo,  which  was  on  the  nest, 
we  were  soon  attracted  by  a  vireo's  song.  Search  for  the  singer 
failed  to  find  it,  until  we  noted  that  the  bird  on  the  nest  seemed  to 
be  singing.  Then,  as  we  watched,  over  and  over  again  the  bird 
was  seen  to  lift  up  its  head  and  pour  out  the  long,  rich  warble  — 
a  most  delicious  sight  and  sound.  Are  such  ways  usual  among 
birds,  or  did  we  chance  to  see  and  hear  an  unusual  thing  ?  " 


CLEAR   CREEK    VALLEY 

A  SCENE  near  Georgetown.  The  copses  in  the  valley  are  the 
hmne  of  white-crowned  sparrows,  willow  thrushesy  Lincoln  s 
sparrows  and  Wilsons  warblers ;  the  steep,  bushy  acclivities 
are  selected  by  the  spurred  and  green-tailed  towhees,  Audubon  s 
and  Macgillivrays  warblers;  while  the  western  robins,  pine 
siskins,  and  broad-tailed  humming-birds  range  all  over  the 
region.  The  robins  and  siskins  make  some  of  their  most  thrilling 
plunges  over  such  cliffs  as  are  shown  in  the  picture. 


202  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

in  motion,  the  golden  ornamentation  gave  them  a  filmy 
appearance.  On  the  wing,  the  birds,  as  I  afterwards 
observed,  often  chirped  a  little  lay  that  bore  a  close 
resemblance  in  certain  parts  to  the  "  pe-chick-o-pe "  of 
the  American  goldfinch.  Indeed,  a  number  of  their 
notes  suggested  that  bird,  as  did  also  their  manner  of 
flight,  which  was  quite  undulatory.  The  birds  were  the 
pine  siskins.  They  are  very  common  in  the  Rockies, 
ranging  from  an  elevation  of  eight  thousand  feet  to  the 
timber-line.  This  pert  and  dainty  little  bird  is  the 
same  wherever  found  in  North  America,  having  no 
need  of  the  cognomen  "  western  "  prefixed  to  his  name 
when  he  takes  it  into  his  wise  little  head  to  make  his 
abode  in  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

The  reader  will  perhaps  recall  that  a  flock  of  pine 
siskins  were  seen,  two  years  prior,  in  a  patch  of  pine 
scrub  a  short  distance  below  Leadville,  at  which  time 
I  was  uncertain  as  to  their  identity.  Oddly  enough, 
that  was  the  only  time  I  saw  these  birds  in  my  first 
trip  to  Colorado,  but  here  in  the  Georgetown  region, 
only  seventy-five  or  a  hundred  miles  farther  north,  no 
species  were  more  plentiful  than  they. 

The  siskins  try  to  sing  —  I  say  "  try  "*'  advisedly.  It 
is  one  of  the  oddest  bits  of  bird  vocalization  you  ever 
heard,  a  wheezy  little  tune  in  the  ascending  scale  — 
a  kind  of  crescendo  —  which  sounds  as  if  it  were  pro- 
duced by  inhalation  rather  than  exhalation.     It  is  as 


RAMBLES   ABOUT   GEORGETOWN  203 

labored  as  the  alto  strain  of  the  clay-colored  sparrow 
of  the  Kansas  and  Nebraska  prairies,  although  it  i-uns 
somewhat  higher  on  the  staff.  The  siskins  seen  at 
Georgetown  moved  about  in  good-sized  flocks,  feeding 
awhile  on  weed-seeds  on  the  sunny  slopes,  and  then 
wheeling  with  a  merry  chirp  up  to  the  pine-clad  sides 
of  the  mountains.  As  they  were  still  in  the  gregarious 
frame  at  Georgetown,  I  concluded  that  they  had  not 
yet  begun  to  mate  and  build  their  nests  in  that  locality. 
Afterwards  I  paid  not  a  little  attention  to  them  farther 
up  in  the  mountains,  and  saw  several  feeding  their 
young,  but,  as  their  nests  are  built  high  in  the  pines, 
they  are  very  difficult  to  find,  or,  if  found,  to  examine. 
Our  birdlets  have  superb  powers  of  flight,  and  actually 
seem  to  re^iel  in  hurling  themselves  down  a  precipice 
or  across  a  chasm  with  a  recklessness  that  makes  the 
observer's  blood  run  cold.  Sometimes  they  will  dart 
out  in  the  air  from  a  steep  mountain  side,  sing  a  ditty 
mudh  like  the  goldfinch's,  then  circle  back  to  their 
native  pines  on  the  dizzy  cliff. 

I  must  be  getting  back  to  my  first  ramble  below 
Georgetown.  Lured  by  the  lyrics  of  the  green-tailed 
towhee,  I  climbed  the  western  acclivity  a  few  hundred 
feet,  but  found  that  few  birds  choose  such  dry  and 
eerie  places  for  a  habitat.  Indeed,  this  was  generally 
my  experience  in  rambling  among  the  mountains ;  the 
farther  up  the  arid  steeps,  the  fewer  the  birds.     If  you 


204  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

will  follow  a  mountain  brook  up  a  sunny  slope  or  open 
valley,  you  will  be  likely  to  find  many  birds ;  but  wan- 
der away  from  the  water  courses,  and  you  will  look  for 
them,  oftentimes,  in  vain.  The  green-tailed  towhees, 
spurred  towhees,  Audubon's  warblers,  and  mountain 
hermit  thrushes  are  all  partial  to  acclivities,  even  very 
steep  ones,  but  they  do  not  select  those  that  are  too 
remote  from  the  babbling  brook  to  which  they  may 
conveniently  resort  for  drinking  and  bathing. 

A  green  and  bushy  spot  a  half  mile  below  the  village 
was  the  home  of  a  number  of  white-crowned  sparrows. 
None  of  them  were  seen  on  the  plains  or  in  the  foothills ; 
they  had  already  migrated  from  the  lower  altitudes,  and 
had  sought  their  summer  residences  in  the  upper  moun- 
tain valleys,  where  they  may  be  found  in  great  abun- 
dance from  an  elevation  of  eight  thousand  feet  to  copsy 
haunts  here  and  there  far  above  the  timber-line  hard 
by  the  fields  of  snow. 

The  white-crowns  in  the  Georgetown  valley  seemed 
to  be  excessively  shy,  and  their  singing  was  a  little  too 
reserved  to  be  thoroughly  enjoyable,  for  which  reason  I 
am  disposed  to  think  that  mating  and  nesting  had  not 
yet  begun,  or  I  should  have  found  evidences  of  it,  as 
their  grassy  cots  on  the  ground  and  in  the  bushes  are 
readily  discovered.  Other  birds  that  were  seen  in  this 
afternoon's  ramble  were  Wilson's  and  Audubon's  war- 
blers, the  spotted  sandpiper,  and  that  past-master  in  the 


RAMBLES   ABOUT   GEORGETOWN  205 

art  of  whining,  the  killdeer.  Another  warbler'*s  trill 
was  heai-d  in  the  thicket,  but  I  was  unable  to  identify 
the  singer  that  evening,  for  he  kept  himself  conscien- 
tiously hidden  in  the  tanglewood.  A  few  days  later  it 
turned  out  to  be  one  of  the  most  beautiful  feathered 
midgets  of  the  Rockies,  Macgillivray's  warbler,  which 
was  seen  in  a  number  of  places,  usually  on  bushy  slopes. 
He  and  his  mate  often  set  up  a  great  to-do  by  chirping 
and  flitting  about,  and  I  spent  hours  in  trying  to  find 
their  nests,  but  with  no  other  result  than  to  wear  out 
my  patience  and  rubber  boots.  I  can  recall  no  other 
Colorado  bird,  either  large  or  small,  except  the  moun- 
tain jay,  that  made  so  much  ado  about  nothing,  so  far 
as  I  could  discover.  But  I  love  them  still,  on  account 
of  the  beauty  of  their  plumage  and  the  gentle  rhythm 
of  their  trills. 

The  next  morning,  chilly  as  the  weather  was  —  and  it 
was  cold  enough  to  make  one  shiver  even  in  bed  —  the 
western  robins  opened  the  day''s  concert  with  a  splendid 
voluntary,  waking  me  out  of  my  slumbers  and  forcing 
me  out  of  doors  for  an  early  walk.  No  one  but  a  syste- 
matic ornithologist  would  be  able  to  mark  the  difference 
between  the  eastern  and  western  types  of  robins,  for 
their  manners,  habits,  and  minstrelsy  are  alike,  and  their 
markings,  too,  so  far  as  ordinary  observation  goes.  The 
carolling  of  the  two  varieties  is  similar,  so  far  as  I  could 
discern  —  the  same  cherry  ringing  melody,  their  voices 


206  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

having  a  like  propensity  to  break  into  falsetto,  becoming 
a  veritable  squeak,  especially  early  in  the  season  before 
their  throat-harps  are  well  tuned.  With  his  powerful 
muscles  and  wide  stretch  of  wing  the  robin  is  admirably 
adapted  to  the  life  of  a  mountaineer.  You  find  him 
from  the  plains  to  the  timber-line,  sometimes  even  in 
the  deepest  canons  and  on  the  most  precipitous  moun- 
tain sides,  always  the  same  busy,  noisy,  cheery  body. 
One  day  I  saw  a  robin  dart  like  a  meteor  from  the  top 
of  a  high  ridge  over  the  cliffs  to  the  valley  below,  where 
he  alighted  on  a  cultivated  field  almost  as  lightly  as  a 
flake  of  snow.  He  —  probably  she  (what  a  trouble 
these  pronouns  are,  anyway !)  —  gathered  a  mouthful 
of  worms  for  his  nestlings,  then  dashed  up  to  the  top  of 
the  ridge  again,  which  he  did,  not  by  flying  out  into  the 
air,  but  by  keeping  close  up  to  the  steep,  cliffy  wall, 
striking  a  rock  here  and  twig  there  with  his  agile  feet  to 
help  him  in  rising.  The  swiftness  of  the  robin's  move- 
ments about  the  gorges,  abysses,  and  precipices  of  the 
mountains  often  inspires  awe  in  the  beholder's  breast, 
and,  on  reflection,  stirs  him  with  envy.  Many  nests  were 
found  in  the  Georgetown  valley,  in  woodsy  and  bushy 
places  on  the  route  to  Gray's  Peak  as  far  as  the  timber- 
line,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Boulder,  in  the  Platte 
River  Canon,  in  South  Park,  and  in  the  Blue  River  re- 
gion beyond  the  Divide.  Some  of  the  nests  contained 
eggs,  others  young  in  various  stages  of  plumage,  and 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  GEORGETOWN 


207 


still  others  were  already  deserted.  For  general  ubiquity 
as  a  species,  commend  me  to  the  American  robin,  whether 
of  the  eastern  or  western  type.  Wherever  found  he  is  a 
singer,  and  it  is  only  to  be  regretted  that  — 

"  All  will  not  hear  thy  sweet,  out-pouring  joy 
That  with  morn's  stillness  blends  the  voice  of  song. 
For  over-anxious  cares  their  souls  employ. 
That  else,  upon  thy  music  borne  along 
And  the  light  wings  of  heart-ascending  prayer. 
Had  learned  that  Heaven  is  pleased  thy  simple  joys  to  share. " 

In  Georgetown,  Silver  Plume, 

and  other  mountain  towns  the 

lovely  violet-green  swallow  is 

frequently  seen  - —  a  distinctly 

western  species  and  one  of 

the  most  richly  apparelled 

birds   of   the   Rockies.     It 

nests  in  all  sorts  of  niches 

and     crannies    about     the 

houses,  often  sits  calmly  on  a 

telegraph  wire  and  preens  its 

iridescent  plumes,  and  sometimes 

utters    a    weak    and  squeaky  little 

trill,  which,  no  doubt,  passes  for  first-rate 

music  in  swallowdom,  whatever  we  human  critics  might  „  ^  .      .    „ 

Out-pounng  joy  " 
thmk  of  it.     Before  man   came  and  settled  in    those 

valleys,  the  violet-greens  found  the  crevices  of  rocks  well 


Western  Robin 


208  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

enough  adapted  to  their  needs  for  nesting  sites,  but  now 
they  prefer  cosey  niches  and  crannies  in  human  dwellings, 
and  appear  to  appreciate  the  society  of  human  beings. 

For  over  a  week  we  made  Georgetown  our  headquar- 
ters, going  off  every  day  to  the  regions  round  about. 
Among  my  most  treasured  finds  here  was  the  nest  of 
Audubon's  warbler  —  my  first.  It  was  saddled  in  the 
crotch  of  a  small  pine  a  short  distance  up  an  acclivity, 
and  was  prettily  roofed  over  with  a  thick  network  of 
branches  and  twigs.  Four  white,  daintily  speckled  eggs 
lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  cup.  While  I  was  sitting  in 
the  shadow  of  the  pine,  some  motion  of  mine  caused  the 
little  owner  to  spring  from  her  nest,  and  this  led  to  its 
discovery.  As  she  flitted  about  in  the  bushes,  she 
uttered  a  sharp  chip^  sometimes  consisting  of  a  double 
note.  The  nest  was  about  four  feet  from  the  ground, 
its  walls  built  of  grasses  and  weed-stems,  and  its  con- 
cave little  floor  carpeted  with  cotton  and  feathers.  A 
cosey  cottage  it  was,  fit  for  the  little  poets  that  erected 
it.  Subsequently  I  made  many  long  and  tiresome 
efforts  to  find  nests  of  the  Audubons,  but  all  these 
efforts  were  futile. 

One  enchanting  day  —  the  twenty-fourth  of  June  — 
was  spent  in  making  a  trip,  with  butterfly-net  and  field- 
glass,  to  Green  Lake,  an  emerald  gem  set  in  the  moun- 
tains at  an  altitude  of  ten  thousand  feet,  a  few  miles 
from  Georgetown.     Before  leaving  the  town,  our  first 


RAMBLES   ABOUT   GEORGETOWN  209 

gray-headed  junco  for  this  expedition  was  seen.  He 
had  come  to  town  for  his  breakfast,  and  was  flitting 
about  on  the  lawns  and  in  the  trees  bordering  the  street, 
helping  himself  to  such  dainties  as  pleased  his  palate. 
It  may  be  said  here  that  the  gray-headed  j  uncos  were 
observed  at  various  places  all  along  the  way  from 
Georgetown  to  Green  Lake  and  far  above  that  body  of 
water.  Not  so  with  the  broad-tailed  hummers,  which 
were  not  seen  above  about  eight  thousand  five  hundred 
feet,  while  the  last  warbling  vireo  of  the  day  was  seen 
and  heard  at  an  altitude  of  nine  thousand  feet,  possibly 
a  little  more,  when  he  decided  that  the  air  was  as  rare 
as  was  good  for  his  health. 

A  short  distance  up  the  canon  of  the  west  branch  of 
Clear  Creek,  a  new  kind  of  flycatcher  was  first  heard, 
and  presently  seen  with  my  glass.  He  sat  on  a  cliff"  or 
flitted  from  rock  to  bush.  He  uttered  a  sharp  call, 
"  Cheep,  cheep,  cheep "  ;  his  under  parts  were  bright 
yellow,  his  upper  parts  yellow-olive,  growing  darker  on 
the  crown,  and  afterwards  a  nearer  view  revealed  dark 
or  dusky  wings,  yellowish  or  gray  wing-bars,  and  yellow 
eye-rings.  He  was  the  western  flycatcher,  and  bears 
close  likeness  to  our  eastern  yellow-breasted  species. 
Subsequently  he  was  quite  frequently  met  with,  but 
never  far  above  the  altitude  of  Georgetown. 

In  the  same  canon  a  beautiful  Macgillivray's  warbler 
was  observed,  and  two  water-ousels  went  dashing  up  the 

14 


210  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

meandering  stream,  keeping  close  to  the  seething  and 
roaring  waters,  but  never  stopping  to  sing  or  bid  us  the 
time  of  day.  Very  few  ousels  were  observed  in  our 
rambles  in  this  region,  and  no  nests  rewarded  my  search, 
whereas  in  the  vicinity  of  Colorado  Springs,  as  the  reader 
will  recall,  these  interesting  birds  were  quite  frequently 
near  at  hand.  A  mother  robin  holding  a  worm  in  her 
bill  sped  down  the  gulch  with  the  swiftness  of  an  arrow. 
We  soon  reached  a  belt  of  quaking  asps  where  there 
were  few  birds.  This  was  succeeded  by  a  zone  of  pines. 
The  green-tailed  towhees  did  not  accompany  us  farther 
in  our  climb  than  to  an  elevation  of  about  nine  thousand 
three  hundred  feet,  but  the  siskins  were  chirping  and 
cavorting  about  and  above  us  all  the  way,  many  of  them 
evidently  having  nests  in  the  tops  of  the  tall  pines  on 
the  dizzy  cliffs.  Likewise  the  hermit  thrushes  were  seen 
in  suitable  localities  by  the  way,  and  also  at  the  highest 
point  we  reached  that  day,  an  elevation  of  perhaps  ten 
thousand  five  hundred  feet. 

While  some  species  were,  so  to  speak,  our  "com- 
panions in  travel  ^^  the  entire  distance  from  the  town  to 
the  lake,  and  others  went  with  us  only  a  part  of  the 
way,  still  other  species  found  habitats  only  in  the  higher 
regions  clambering  far  up  toward  the  timber-line. 
Among  these  were  the  mountain  jays,  none  of  which 
were  found  as  far  down  the  range  as  Georgetown.  They 
began  to  proclaim  their  presence  by  raucous  calls  as  soon 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  GEORGETOWN 


211 


^A 


as  we  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  Green  Lake.  A  family 
of  them  were  hurthng  about  in  the  pine  woods,  allow- 
ing themselves  to  be  inspected  at  short  range,  and  filling 
the  hollows  with  their  uncanny  calls.  What  a  voice 
the  mountain  jay  has  !  Nature  did  a  queer  thing  when 
she  put  a  "horse-fiddle"'  into  the  larynx 
of  this  bird  —  but  it  is  not  ours  to  ask  j^, 
the  reason  why,  simply  to  study  her  as  * 
she  is.  In  marked  contrast  with  the  harsh 
calls  of  these  mountain  hobos  were  the 
roulades  of  the  sweet  and  musical  ruby- 
crowned  kinglets,  which  had  absented  themselves 
from  the  lower  altitudes,  but  were  abundant  in 
the  timber  belts  about  ten  thousand  feet  up  the 
range  and  still  higher. 

On  the  border  of  the  lake,  among  some  gnarly 
pines,  I  stumbled  upon  a  woodpecker  that  was 
entirely  new  to  my  eastern  eyes  —  one  that  I 
had  not  seen  in  my  previous  touring  among 
the  heights  of  the  Rockies.     He  was  sedu- 
lously   pursuing   his    vocation  —  a    divine 
call,  no  doubt  —  of  chiselling  grubs 
out  of  the  bark  of  the  pine  trees, 
making  the  chips  fly,  and  produc- 
ing at  intervals  that  musical 


Red-nar 
Sapsuck 


^^ 


Jt'^^1 
^ 


"  Chisellinq  grubs  out  of  tJie  bark" 


212  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

snare-drumming  which  always  sets  the  poet  to  dreaming 
of  sylvan  solitudes.  What  was  the  bird?  The  red- 
naped  sapsucker,  a  beautifully  habited  Chesterfield  in 
plumes.  He  presently  ambled  up  the  steep  mountain 
side,  and  buried  himself  in  the  pine  forest,  and  I  saw 
him  no  more,  and  none  of  his  kith. 

When  I  climbed  up  over  a  tangle  of  rocks  tq  a  woodsy 
ravine  far  above  the  lake,  it  seemed  at  first  as  if  there 
were  no  birds  in  the  place,  that  it  was  given  up  entirely 
to  solitude;  but  the  winged  creatures  were  only  shy 
and  cautious  for  the  nonce,  waiting  to  learn  something 
about  the  errand  and  disposition  of  their  uninvited,  or, 
rather,  self-invited,  guest,  before  they  ventured  to  give 
him  a  greeting.  Presently  they  discovered  that  he  was 
not  a  collector,  hunter,  nest-robber,  or  ogre  of  any  other 
kind,  and  there  was  the  swish  of  wings  around  me,  and 
a  medley  of  chirps  and  songs  filled  the  sequestered  spot. 
Away  up  here  the  gray-headed  j uncos  were  trilling  like 
warblers,  and  hopping  about  on  their  pine-needle  carpet, 
creeping  in  and  out  among  the  rocks,  hunting  for  tid- 
bits. Here  also  was  the  mountain  chickadee,  found  at 
this  season  in  the  heights  hard  by  the  alpine  zone, 
singing  his  dulcet  minor  strain,  "  Te-te-re-e-e,  te-eet," 
sometimes  adding  another  "  te-eet  ^^  by  way  of  special 
emphasis  and  adornment.  Oh,  the  sweet  little  piper 
piping  only  for  Pan  !  The  loneliness  of  the  place  was 
accentuated  by  the  sad  cadenzas  of  the  mountain  hermit 


RAMBLES   ABOUT   GEORGETOWN  213 

thrushes.  Swallows  of  some  kind  —  clifF-swallows,  no 
doubt  —  were  silently  weaving  invisible  filigree  across 
the  sky  above  the  tops  of  the  stately  pines. 

In  the  afternoon  we  made  our  way,  with  not  a  little 
laborious  effort,  to  the  farther  end  of  the  lake,  across 
which  a  red-shafted  flicker  would  occasionally  wing  its 
galloping  flight ;  thence  through  a  wilderness  of  large 
rocks  and  fallen  pines  to  a  beckoning  ridge,  where,  to 
our  surprise,  another  beautiful  aqueous  sheet  greeted 
our  vision  in  the  valley  beyond.  Descending  to  its 
shores,  we  had  still  another  surprise  — its  waters  were 
brown  instead  of  green.  Here  were  two  mountain  lakes 
not  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  apart,  one  of  which 
was  green  and  the  other  brown,  each  with  a  beauty  all 
its  own.  In  the  brown  lake  near  the  shore  there  were 
glints  of  gold  as  the  sun  shone  through  its  ripples  on  the 
rocks  at  the  bottom.  Afterwards  we  learned  that  the 
name  of  this  liquid  gem  was  Clear  Lake,  and  that 
the  western  branch  of  Clear  Creek  flows  through  it, 
taiTying  a  while  to  sport  and  dally  with  the  sunbeams. 
While  Green  Lake  was  embowered  in  a  forest  of  pine, 
its  companion  lay  in  the  open  sunlight,  unflecked  by 
the  shadow  of  a  tree. 

At  the  upper  end  of  Clear  Lake  we  found  a  green, 
bosky  and  bushy  corner,  which  formed  the  summer  tryst 
of  white-crowned  sparrows,  Wilson's  warblers,  and  broad- 
tailed  humming-birds,  none  of  which  could  find  a  suit- 


214 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 


able  habitat  on  the  rocky 
shores  of  Green 
pigeon    hawk,    I 
note,  had  set- 
and  was  watching 
the  only  fly  in 
enchanted 
flycatcher 

copse  some  distance  up 
way.     I  trudged  up  the  valley 
above  Clear  Lake,  and  found 
meadow,  with  clumps  of  bushes 
in  which  a  few  white-crowned 
Wilson's  warblers  had  taken  up 
dwelling;    but    the    wind    was 
ingly    from    the    snow-capped 
many   miles   away,    and   there 
aspect  about  the  vale.   The  cold 
the  birds  as  it  did  myself,  for  ! 
few  bars  of  song   in    a   half- 
ing  was  approaching,  and  the 
the    human    ones,    I    mean  — 
down    the   valleys  and   canons 
town,    which    they   reached   at 
thankful    for  the   privilege  of 
day  among  their  winged  com-  ' 
Following  a  wagon  road,  the    ' 


forest;-locked 
Lake.        A 
regretted    to 
tied  among  the  bushes, 
for        quarry,  making 
the  amber  of  the 
spot.     A  least 
flitted  about  in  the 
.  a    shallow    run- 
about    a   mile 
a    green,    open 
here  and  there, 
sparrows    and 
at  least  a  temporary 
blowing  shiver- 
mountains      not 
was   still  a  wintry 
evidently  affected 
they  lisped  only  a 
hearted  way.  Even- 
two   travellers  — 
started  on  the  trail 
toward  George- 
dusk,  tired,  but 
spending  an  idyllic 
panions. 
next  day,  across  a 

Pigeon  Hawk 

Watching  for  quarry  " 


\  y 


RAMBLES   ABOUT   GEORGETOWN         215 

pass  some  distance  below  Georgetown  brought  us  into  an- 
other valley,  whose  green  meadows  and  cultivated  fields 
lay  a  little  lower,  perhaps  a  couple  hundred  feet,  than 
the  valley  from  which  we  had  come.  Here  we  found 
many  Brewer's  blackbirds,  of  which  there  were  very  few 
in  the  vicinity  of  Georgetown.  They  were  feeding  their 
young,  some  of  which  had  already  left  the  nest.  .No 
red-winged  blackbirds  had  been  seen  in  the  Georgetown 
valley,  while  here  there  was  a  large  colony  of  them, 
many  carrying  food  to  the  bantlings  in  grass  and  bush. 
Otherwise  there  was  little  difference  between  the  avi- 
fauna of  the  two  valleys. 

One  morning  I  climbed  the  steep  mountain  just 
above  Georgetown,  the  one  that  forms  the  divide  be- 
tween the  two  branches  of  Clear  Creek.  A  western 
chipping  sparrow  sat  trilling  on  the  top  of  a  small  pine, 
as  unafraid  as  the  chippie  that  rings  his  silvery  peals 
about  your  dooryard  in  the  East ;  nor  could  I  distin- 
guish any  difference  between  the  minstrelsy  of  this 
westerner  and  his  well-known  cousin  of  Ohio.  He  dex- 
terously caught  an  insect  on  the  wing,  having  learned 
that  trick,  perhaps,  from  his  neighbor,  the  little  west- 
ern flycatcher,  which  also  lived  on  the  slope.  Hermit 
thrushes,  Audubon's  warblers,  and  warbling  vireos  dwelt 
on  the  lower  part  of  the  acclivity.  When  I  climbed  far 
up  the  steep  wall,  scarcely  able  to  cling  to  its  gravelly 
surface,  I  found  very  few  birds ;  only  a  flycatcher  and 


216  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

an  Audubon's  warbler,  while  below  me  the  hermit 
thrushes  were  chanting  a  sacred  oratorio  in  the  pine 
woods. 

On  another  day  the  train  bore  us  around  the  famous 
"  Loop  "  to  Silver  Plume.  In  the  beautiful  pine  grove 
at  the  terminus  of  the  railway  there  were  many  birds 
—  siskins,  chipping  sparrows,  western  robins  and  ruby- 
crowned  kinglets ;  and  they  were  making  the  place 
vocal  with  melody,  until  I  began  to  inspect  them  with 
my  glass,  when  they  suddenly  lapsed  into  a  silence  that 
was  as  trying  as  it  was  profound.  By  and  by,  discretion 
having  had  her  perfect  work,  they  metaphorically  came 
out  of  their  shells  and  permitted  an  inspection.  Above 
the  railway  I  saw  one  of  the  few  birds  of  my  entire 
Rocky  Mountain  outing  that  I  was  unable  to  identify. 
That  little  feathered  Sphinx  —  what  could  he  have 
been  ?  To  quote  from  my  note-book,  "  His  song,  as 
he  sits  quietly  on  a  twig  in  a  pine  tree,  is  a  rich  gur- 
gling trill,  slightly  like  that  of  a  house-wren,  but  fuller 
and  more  melodious,  with  an  air  about  it  that  makes 
me  feel  almost  like  writing  a  poem.  The  bird  is  in 
plain  view  before  me,  and  I  may  watch  him  either  with 
or  without  my  glass ;  he  has  a  short,  conical  bill ; 
his  upper  parts  are  gray  or  olive-gray ;  cervical  patch 
of  d  greenish  tinge ;  under  parts  whitish,  spotted  with 
dusk  or  brown.  The  bill  is  white  or  horn-color,  and  is 
quite  heavy,  I  should  say  heavier  than  that  of  any  spar- 


RAMBLES   ABOUT   GEORGETOWN         217 

row  I  know.  The  bird  continued  to  sing  for  a  long 
time  and  at  frequent  intervals,  not  even  stopping  when 
the  engine  near  at  hand  blew  off  steam,  although  he 
turned  his  head  and  looked  a  little  startled.""  I  saw 
this  species  nowhere  else  in  my  Colorado  rambles,  and 
can  find  no  description  in  the  systematic  manuals  that 
helps  to  clear  up  the  mystery,  and  so  an  avis  incognita 
he  must  remain  for  the  present. 

Has  mention  been  made  of  a  few  house-finches  that 
were  seen  in  Georgetown.?  Oi^lj  ^  few,  however,  for 
they  prefer  the  towns  and  cities  of  the  plain.  Several 
house- wrens  were  also  seen  in  the  vicinity  of  the  George- 
town Loop  as  well  as  elsewhere  in  the  valley.  The 
"  Loop,"  although  a  monumental  work  of  human  genius 
and  daring,  has  its  peculiar  attractions  for  the  student 
of  natural  history,  for  in  the  canon  itself,  which  is 
somewhat  open  and  not  without  bushy  haunts,  and  on 
the  precipitous  mountain  sides,  a  few  birds  set  up  their 
Lares  and  Penates,  and  mingle  their  songs  of  domestic 
felicity  with  the  roar  of  the  torrent  and  the  passing 
trains.  Darting  like  zigzag  lightning  about  the  cliffs, 
the  broad-tailed  humming-bird  cuts  the  air  with  his 
sharp,  defiant  buzz,  until  you  exclaim  with  the  poet : 

"  Is  it  a  monster  bee, 

Or  is  it  a  midget  bird. 
Or  yet  an  air-born  mystery 

That  now  yon  marigold  has  stirred  ?  " 


218 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 


tion    of  the 
and  asrain 


Among  the  birds  that  dwell  on  the  steep  mountain 
sides  above  the  "  Loop  "  hollow  are  the  melodious  green- 
tailed  towhees,  lisping  their  chansons  of  good-will  to 
breeze  and  torrent,  while  in  the  copse  of  asps  in  the 
hollow  itself  the  warbling  vireo  and  the  western  fly- 
catcher hold  sway,  the  former  rehearsing  his  recitative 
all  the  day  long,  and  the  latter  chirping  his  protest  at 
every  human  intrusion.  On  a  pine-clad  shelf  between 
the  second  fold  of  the  "  Loop  "  and  what  is  known  as 
the  "  Great  Fill ''  I  settled  (at  least,  to  my  own  satis- 
faction) a  long-disputed  point  in  regard  to  the  vocaliza- 
mountain  hermit  thrush.  Again 
I  had  noticed  a  peculiarity  about 
hermit's  minstrelsy  —  whenever 
the  music  reached  my  ear,  it 
came  in  two  runs,  the  first 
quite  high  in  the  scale,  the 
second  perhaps  an  octave 
lower.  For  a  long  time  I 
supposed  that  two  thrushes 
were  singing  responsively, 
but  here  at  the  "  Loop," 
after  listening  for  a  couple 
of  hours,  it  occurred  to  me 
as  improbable  that  there 
would  invariably  be  a  respon- 

^^Solo  singing  in  the  dent  when  a  thrush  lifted  up 

thrush  realm" 


RAMBLES  ABOUT   GEORGETOWN         219 

his  voice  in  song.  Surely  there  would  sometimes,  at 
least,  be  solo  singing  in  the  thrush  realm.  And  so  the 
conclusion  was  forced  upon  me  that  both  strains  ema- 
nated from  the  same  throat,  that  each  vocalist  was  its 
own  respondent.  It  was  worth  while  to  clamber  labo- 
riously about  the  "  Loop  "  to  settle  a  point  like  that  — 
at  all  events,  it  was  worth  while  for  one  admirer  of  the 
birds. 


HO!   FOR   GRAY'S   PEAK! 


Plate  VI 


Townsend's  Solitaire  —  Myiadcstes  townsemlii 


^mr-~                  " 

'^VHI 

_     ,^S.,^""">        ^'x-^."^ 

* 

i 

«v^^^^^H 

^ 

'1m 

li 

HO!    FOR   GRAY^S   PEAK! 


BY  the  uninitiated  it  may  be  regarded  simply  as 
fun  and  pastime  to  climb  a  mountain  whose 
summit  soars  into  cloudland ;  in  reality  it  is 
serious  business,  not  necessarily  accompanied  with  great 
danger,  but  always  accomplished  by  laborious  effort. 
However,  it  is  better  for  the  clamberer  to  look  upon  his 
undertaking  as  play  rather  than  work.  Should  he  come 
to  feel  that  it  is  actual  toil,  he  might  soon  weary  of  a 
task  engaged  in  so  largely  for  its  own  sake,  and  decide 
to  expend  his  time  and  energy  in  something  that  would 
"  pay  better.*"  Moreover,  if  he  is  impelled  by  a  hobby 
—  ornithology,  for  instance  —  in  addition  to  the  mere 
love  of  mountaineering,  he  will  find  that  something 
very  near  akin  to  wings  has  been  annexed  to  the  climb- 
ing gear  of  which  he  is  naturally  possessed. 

The   morning   of  June   27   saw   my   youthful  com- 
panion and  myself  mounted  each  upon  a  shaggy  burro, 

223 


224  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

scrambling  up  the  steep  hill  above  Georgetown,  en  route 
for  Gray's  Peak,  the  ascent  of  which  was  the  chief  goal 
of  our  ambition  in  coming  to  the  Rockies  on  the  present 
expedition.  The  distance  from  Georgetown  to  the 
summit  of  this  peak  is  fourteen  miles,  and  the  crest  it- 
self is  fourteen  thousand  four  hundred  and  forty-one 
feet  above  sea-level,  almost  three  hundred  feet  higher 
than  Pike*'s  Peak,  and  cannot  be  scaled  by  means  of  a 
cog-wheel  railway  or  any  other  contrivance  that  uses 
steam  or  electricity  as  a  motor.  Indeed,  the  only 
motor  available  at  the  time  of  our  ascent  —  that  is,  for 
the  final  climb  —  was  "  shank''s  horses,"  very  useful  and 
mostly  safe,  even  if  a  little  plebeian.  We  had  been 
wise  enough  not  to  plunge  at  once  among  the  heights, 
having  spent  almost  a  week  rambling  over  the  plains, 
mesas,  foothills,  and  lower  ranges,  then  had  been  occu- 
pied for  five  or  six  days  more  in  exploring  the  valleys 
and  mountain  sides  in  the  vicinity  of  Georgetown, 
and  thus,  by  gradually  approaching  them,  we  had  be- 
come inured  to  "  roughing  it ""  in  the  higher  altitudes 
when  we  reached  them,  and  suffered  no  ill  effects  from 
the  rarefied  atmosphere. 

We  passed  the  famous  "  Georgetown  Loop,*"  crept  at 
a  snail's  pace  —  for  that  is  the  natural  gait  of  the  burro 
—  through  the  town  of  Silver  Plume,  and  pursued  our 
leisurely  journey  toward  the  beckoning,  snow-clad 
heights  beyond.     No,  we  did  not  hurry,  for  two  reasons : 


HO!   FOR   GRAY'S   PEAK!  225 

First,  our  little  four-footers  would  not  or  could  not 
quicken  their  pace,  urge  them  as  we  would ;  second,  we 
desired  to  name  all  the  birds  along  the  route,  and  that 
"without  a  gun,"  as  Emerson  mercifully  enjoins. 

Have  you  ever  ridden  a  burro  ?  Have  you  ever  been 
astride  of  an  old  one,  a  hirsute,  unkempt,  snail-paced, 
obstinate  one,  which  thinks  he  knows  better  what  gait 
he  ought  to  assume  than  you  do  ?  If  you  have  not, 
I  venture  to  suggest  modestly  that  your  education 
and  moral  discipline  are  not  quite  complete.  The  pair 
which  we  had  hired  were  slow  and  headstrong  enough 
to  develop  the  patience  of  Job  in  a  most  satisfactory 
way,  and  to  test  it,  too.  They  were  as  homely  as  the 
proverbial  "  mud  fence '"  is  supposed  to  be.  Never 
having  seen  a  fence  of  that  kind,  I  speak  with  some 
degree  of  caution,  not  wanting  to  cast  any  disparage- 
ment upon  something  of  which  I  have  so  little  knowl- 
edge. If  our  long-eared  companions  had  ever  seen 
a  curry-comb,  it  must  have  been  in  the  days  of  Noah. 
You  see,  we  were  "tenderfoots,""'  as  far  as  having  had 
any  experience  with  burros  was  concerned,  or  we  might 
have  selected  a  more  sprightly  pair  for  our  fellow- 
pilgrims.  A  fine  picture,  fit  for  the  camera  or  the 
artist's  brush,  we  presented  as  we  crept  with  the  speed 
of  a  tortoise  along  the  steep  mountain  roads  and  trails. 
Our  "  jacks,""'  as  Messrs.  Longears  are  called  colloquially, 
were  not   lazy  —  oh,  no !    they  were  simply  averse    to 

15 


226  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

leaving  home  !  Their  domestic  ties  were  so  strong  they 
bound  them  with  cords  of  steel  and  hooks  of  iron  to 
stall  and  stable-yard  !  The  thought  of  forsaking  friends 
and  kindred  even  for  only  a  few  days  wrung  their 
loving  hearts  with  anguish !  No  wonder  we  had  a 
delicate  and  pathetic  task  on  hand  when  we  attempted 
to  start  our  caravan  up  the  mountain  road.  From 
side  to  side  the  gentle  animals  wabbled,  their  load  of 
grief  weighing  them  down  tenfold  more  than  the  loads 
on  their  backs,  and  times  without  count  they  were 
prompted  to  veer  about  and  "turn  again  home.*" 

Much  labor  and  time  and  patience  were  expended 
in  persuading  our  steeds  to  crawl  up  the  hill,  but  I  am 
delighted  to  say  that  no  profane  history  was  quoted, 
as  we  were  a  strictly  moral  crowd.  At  length  we 
arrived  in  state  at  the  village  of  Silver  Plume.  Canter 
into  the  town  like  a  gang  of  border  ruffians  we  did  not ; 
we  entered  deliberately,  as  became  a  dignified  company 
of  travellers.  But  here  a  new  difficulty  confronted  us, 
stared  us  blankly  in  the  face.  Our  little  charges  could 
not  be  convinced  that  there  was  any  occasion  for  going 
farther  than  the  town.  They  seemed  to  have  con- 
scientious scruples  about  the  matter;  so  they  stopped 
without  any  invitation  from  their  riders,  sidled  off, 
turned  in  toward  the  residences,  stores,  groceries,  shoe- 
shops,  drugstores,  barns,  and  even  the  saloons,  the 
while  the  idlers  on  the  streets  and  the  small  boys  were 


HO!    FOR   GRAY'S    PEAK!  227 

gawking  at  us,  smiling  in  a  half-suppressed  way,  and 
making  quaint  remarks  in  which  we  could  see  no 
wisdom  nor  humor.  We  had  not  come  into  the  town, 
like  Don  Quixote  and  Sancho  Panza,  merely  to  furnish 
the  villagers  amusement.  Applying  our  canes  and 
straps  forcibly  to  the  haunches  and  rumps  of  our  burros 
only  seemed  to  embarrass  the  poor  creatures,  for  you 
can  readily  see  how  they  would  reason  the  matter  out 
from  their  own  premises :  If  they  were  to  go  no  farther, 
as  had  been  decided  by  themselves,  why  should  their 
riders  belabor  them  in  that  merciless  way  ?  For  down- 
right dialectics  commend  me  to  the  Rocky  Mountain 
burro. 

Finally  a  providence  in  the  shape  of  two  small  boys 
came  to  our  rescue,  and  in  a  most  interesting  and 
effective  way.  Seeing  the  predicament  we  were  in, 
and  appreciating  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  those 
nimble-witted  lads  picked  up  a  couple  of  clubs  from  the 
street,  and,  getting  in  the  rear  of  our  champing  steeds, 
began  to  pound  them  over  the  haunches.  For  small 
boys  they  delivered  sturdy  blows.  Now,  if  there  is 
anything  that  will  make  a  burro  move  dexterously  out 
of  his  tracks,  it  is  to  get  behind  him  with  a  club  and 
beat  a  steady  tattoo  on  his  hams  and  legs.  No  sooner 
did  the  boys  begin  to  apply  their  clubs  in  good  earnest 
than  our  burros  began  to  print  tracks  in  quick  succes- 
sion on  the  dusty  road,  and  we  went  gayly  through  the 


228  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

town,  the  lads  making  a  merry  din  with  their  shouts 
and  whacks,  mingled  with  the  patter  of  hoofs  on  the 
street.  It  was  so  dramatic  that  even  the  women  came 
to  their  doors  to  witness  the  pageant.  We  tried  not 
to  laugh,  and  so  did  the  delicately  mannered  spectators, 
but  I  suspect  that  a  good  deal  of  laughing  was  done 
on  the  sly,  in  spite  of  the  canons  of  etiquette. 

At  length  the  obliging  lads  became  a  little  too 
accommodating.  They  used  their  persuasives  upon 
the  donkeys  so  vigorously  that  they  —  the  donkeys  — 
started  off  on  a  lope,  a  sort  of  awkward,  lop-sided 
gallop.  Now,  if  there  is  anything  that  is  beyond  the 
ability  of  Master  Jack,  especially  if  he  is  old,  it  is  to 
canter  and  at  the  same  time  preserve  his  equilibrium. 
It  is  evident  that  he  is  not  built  to  make  a  rocking- 
chair  of  his  back  bone.  So  a  little  comedy  was  enacted, 
all  involuntary  on  the  part  of  the  dramatis  personw. 
Suddenly  Turpentine  —  that  was  the  name  of  the  little 
gray  burro  ridden  by  my  boy  companion  —  took  a 
header,  sending  his  youthful  rider  sprawling  to  the 
ground,  where  he  did  not  remain  a  moment  longer 
than  good  manners  demanded.  Fortunately  he  suc- 
ceeded in  disengaging  his  feet  from  the  stirrups  and 
directing  his  movements  in  such  a  way  that  the  animal 
did  not  fall  upon  him.  But  poor  Turpentine,  what 
of  him  ?  He  tumbled  clean  over  his  head  upon  his 
back,  and  I  want  to  confess  in  all  candor  that  one  of 


HOI   FOR   GRAY'S    PEAK!  229 

the  most  instructive  and  interesting  "  animal  pictures " 
I  have  ever  seen,  including  those  done  by  Landseer, 
Rosa  Bonheur,  and  Ernest  Thompson  Seton,  was  that 
little  iron-gray,  long-eared  donkey  lying  on  his  back  on 
the  street  and  clawing  the  air  with  his  hoofs.  And 
he  clawed  fast,  too  —  fairly  sawed  the  air.  For  once 
in  his  life  Turpentine,  the  snail  paced,  was  in  a  hurry ; 
for  once  he  moved  with  more  celerity  than  grace.  It 
threw  us  into  spasms  of  laughter  to  see  him  exert  him- 
self so  vigorously  to  reverse  his  position  —  to  get  his 
feet  down  and  his  back  up.  A  cat  could  not  have 
done  it  with  more  celerity.  You  never  would  have 
believed  him  capable  of  putting  so  much  vim  and  vigor 
into  his  easy-going  personality.  After  chopping  the 
air  with  his  hoofs  for  a  second  or  two,  he  succeeded 
in  righting  himself,  and  was  on  his  feet  in  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  tell  it.  There  he  stood,  as  meek  as 
Mary's  lamb,  trying  to  look  as  if  he  had  never  turned 
an  undignified  somersault  in  all  his  tranquil  life. 

We  started  on  our  journey  again,  and  presently,  to 
our  intense  relief,  reached  the  border  of  the  town, 
thanked  the  lads  who  had  expedited  our  march  along 
the  street,  and  proceeded  on  our  way  up  the  valley. 
We  soon  settled  down  to  taking  our  burros  philosophi- 
cally, and  erelong  they  were  going  calmly  on  the  even 
tenor  of  their  way,  and  afterwards  we  had  little  trouble 
with  them,  and  actually  became  quite  attached  to  the 


230  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

gentle  creatures  before  our  joint  pilgrimage  drew  to 
an  end. 

It  is  time  to  pass  from  quadrupeds  to  bipeds.  While 
our  feathered  friends  were  not  so  abundant  in  the  wilder 
regions  as  we  might  have  wished,  still  we  had  almost 
constant  avian  companionship  along  the  way.  The  war- 
bling vireos  were  especially  plentiful,  and  in  full  tune, 
making  a  silvery  trail  of  song  beside  the  dusty  road. 
We  had  them  at  our  elbow  as  far  as  Graymont,  where 
we  made  a  sharp  detour  from  the  open  valley,  and  clam- 
bered along  a  steep  mountain  side,  with  a  deep,  wooded 
gorge  below  us.  Here  the  vireos  suddenly  decided 
that  they  could  escort  us  no  farther,  as  they  had  no 
taste  for  crepuscular  canons  and  alpine  heights.  Not  a 
vireo  was  seen  above  Graymont,  which  has  an  altitude 
of  nearly  ten  thousand  feet.  We  left  them  singing  in 
the  valley  as  we  turned  from  it,  and  did  not  hear  them 
again  until  we  came  back  to  Graymont. 

Almost  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  broad-tailed 
humming-birds,  whose  insect-like  buzzing  we  heard  at 
frequent  intervals  along  the  route  to  a  shoulder  of  the 
mountain  a  little  above  Graymont,  when  it  suddenly 
ceased  and  was  heard  no  more  until  we  returned  to 
the  same  spot  a  few  days  later.  House-wrens,  willow 
thrushes,  Brewer's  blackbirds,  and  long-crested  jays  were 
also  last  seen  at  Graymont,  which  seemed  to  be  a  kind 
of  territorial  limit  for  a  number  of  species. 


HO!    FOR   GRAY'S   PEAK!  231 

However,  several  species  —  as  species,  of  course,  not 
as  individuals  —  convoyed  us  all  the  way  from  George- 
town to  the  timber-line  and,  in  some  instances,  beyond. 
Let  me  call  the  roll  of  these  faithful  "  steadies '''' : 
Mountain  hermit  thrushes,  gray-headed  j  uncos,  red- 
shafted  flickers,  pine  siskins,  western  robins,  Audubon's 
and  Wilson's  warblers,  mountain  bluebirds  and  white- 
crowned  sparrows.  Of  course,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind 
that  these  birds  were  not  seen  everywhere  along  the  up- 
ward journey,  simply  in  their  favorite  habitats.  The 
deep,  pine-shadowed  gorges  were  avoided  by  the  warblers 
and  white-crowned  sparrows,  whilst  every  open,  sunlit, 
and  bushy  spot  or  bosky  glen  was  enlivened  by  a  con- 
tingent of  these  merry  minnesingers.  One  little  bird 
added  to  our  list  in  the  gorge  above  Graymont  was  the 
mountain  chickadee,  which  was  found  thereafter  up  to 
the  timber-line. 

It  was  sometime  in  the  afternoon  when  we  reached 
Graymont,  which  we  found  to  be  no  "  mount*"  at  all,  as 
we  had  expected,  but  a  hamlet,  now  mostly  deserted,  in 
a  narrow  valley  in  sight  of  several  gray  mountains  loom- 
ing in  the  distance.  Straight  up  the  valley  were  some 
snow-mantled  peaks,  but  none  of  them  was  Gray's ; 
they  did  not  beckon  to  us  from  the  right  direction. 
From  the  upper  part  of  the  hamlet,  looking  to  our  left, 
we  saw  a  frowning,  snow-clad  ridge  towering  like  an 
angry  giant  in  the  air,  and  we  cried  simultaneously, 


232  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

"  Gray''s  Peak ! ""  The  terrific  aspect  of  that  mountain 
sent  a  momentary  shiver  through  our  veins  as  we 
thought  of  scahng  it  without  a  guide.  We  were  in 
error,  as  we  afterwards  found,  for  the  mountain  was 
Torrey's  Peak,  not  Gray''s,  which  is  not  visible  from 
Graymont,  being  hidden  by  two  intervening  elevations. 
Mount  Kelso  and  Torrey's  Peak.  There  are  several 
points  about  a  mile  above  Graymont  from  which  Gray's 
serene  peak  is  visible,  but  of  this  we  were  not  aware 
until  on  our  return  trip,  when  we  had  learned  to  rec- 
ognize him  by  his  calm  and  magisterial  aspect. 

As  evening  drew  on,  and  the  westering  sun  fell  below 
the  ridges,  and  the  shadows  deepened  in  the  gorges, 
making  them  doubly  weird,  we  began  to  feel  very 
lonely,  and,  to  add  to  our  misgivings,  we  were  uncer- 
tain of  our  way.  The  prospect  of  having  to  spend  a 
cold  night  out  of  doors  in  a  solitary  place  like  this  was 
not  very  refreshing,  I  am  free  to  confess,  much  as  one 
might  desire  to  proclaim  himself  a  brave  man.  Pres- 
ently our  eyes  were  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  a  miner's 
shack  just  across  the  hollow,  perhaps  the  one  for  which 
we  were  anxiously  looking.  A  man  at  Graymont  had 
told  us  about  a  miner  up  this  way,  saying  he  was  a 
"  nice  man "  and  would  no  doubt  give  us  accommoda- 
tion for  the  night.  I  crossed  the  narrow  foot-bridge 
that  spanned  the  booming  torrent,  and  found  the  miner 
at  home.     Would  he  give  two  way-worn  travellers  a 


HO!   FOR   GRAY'S   PEAK!  233 

place  to  sleep  beneath  his  roof?  We  had  brought 
plenty  of  food  and  some  blankets  with  us,  and  all  we 
required  was  four  walls  around  us  and  a  roof  over  our 
heads.  Yes,  he  replied,  we  were  welcome  to  such  ac- 
commodation as  he  had,  and  he  could  even  give  us  a 
bed,  though  it  "  was  n't  very  stylish.""  Those  were 
among  the  sweetest  and  most  musical  words  that  ever 
fell  on  my  ear. 

Having  tethered  our  burros  in  a  grassy  cove  on  the 
mountain  side,  and  cooked  our  supper  in  the  gloaming 
among  some  rocks  by  the  bank  of  the  brawling  stream, 
we  turned  into  the  cabin  for  the  night,  more  than  grate- 
ful for  a  shelter  from  the  chill  winds  scurrying  down 
from  the  snow-capped  mountains.  The  shack  nestled 
at  the  foot  of  Mount  Kelso,  which  we  had  also  mistaken 
for  Gray's  Peak.  As  we  sat  by  the  light  of  a  tallow 
candle,  beguiling  the  evening  with  conversation,  the 
miner  told  us  that  the  mountain  jays,  colloquially  called 
"camp  robbers,'"*  were  common  around  his  cabin,  espe- 
cially in  winter ;  but  familiar  as  they  were,  he  had  never 
been  able  to  find  a  nest.  The  one  thing  about  which 
they  insist  on  the  utmost  privacy  is  their  nesting  places. 
My  friend  also  told  me  that  a  couple  of  gray  squirrels 
made  the  woods  around  his  camp  their  home.  The  jays 
would  frequently  carry  morsels  of  food  up  to  the  branches 
of  the  pines,  and  stow  them  in  some  crevice  for  future 
use,  whereupon  the  squirrels,  always  on  the  lookout  for 


234  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

their  own  interests,  would  scuttle  up  the  tree  and  steal 
the  hidden  provender,  eating  it  with  many  a  chuckle  of 
self-congratulation. 

Had  not  the  weather  turned  so  cold  during  the  night, 
we  might  have  slept  quite  comfortably  in  the  miner's 
shack,  but  I  must  confess  that,  though  it  was  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  June  and  I  had  a  small  mountain  of  cover  over 
me,  I  shivered  a  good  deal  toward  morning.  An  hour  or 
so  after  daylight  four  or  five  mountain  jays  came  to  the 
cabin  for  their  breakfast,  flitting  to  the  ground  and 
greedily  devouring  such  tidbits  as  they  could  find.  They 
were  not  in  the  least  shy.  But  where  were  their  nests  ? 
That  was  the  question  that  most  deeply  interested  me. 
During  the  next  few  days  I  made  many  a  long  and  toil- 
some search  for  them  in  the  woods  and  ravines  and  on 
the  steep  mountain  sides,  but  none  of  the  birds  invited 
me  to  their  houses.  These  birds  know  how  to  keep  a 
secret.  Anything  but  feathered  Apollos,  they  have  a 
kind  of  ghoulish  aspect,  making  you  think  of  the  appa- 
ritional  as  they  move  in  their  noiseless  way  among  the 
shadowing  pines.  There  is  a  look  in  their  dark,  deep- 
set  eyes  and  about  their  thick,  clumpy  heads  which 
gives  you  a  feeling  that  they  might  be  equal  to  any 
imaginable  act  of  cruelty.  Yet  I  cannot  say  I  dislike 
these  mountain  roustabouts,  for  some  of  their  talk  among 
themselves  is  very  tender  and  affectionate,  proving  that, 
"  whatever  brawls  disturb  the  street,""  there  are  love  and 


HO!    FOR   GRAY'S    PEAK!  235 

concord  in  jay  household  circles.  That  surely  is  a  virtue 
to  be  commended,  and  cannot  be  claimed  for  every 
family,  either  avian  or  human. 

At  4.30  that  morning  I  crept  out  of  bed  and  climbed 
far  up  one  of  the  mountain  sides  —  this  was  before  the 
jays  came  to  the  cabin.  The  wind  blew  so  icy  from  the 
snow-clad  heights  that  I  was  only  too  glad  to  wear 
woollen  gloves  and  pin  a  bandanna  handkerchief  around 
my  neck,  besides  buttoning  up  my  coat  collar.  Even 
then  I  shivered.  But  would  you  believe  it  ?  The  mos- 
quitoes were  as  lively  and  active  as  if  a  balmy  breeze 
were  blowing  from  Arcady,  puncturing  me  wherever 
they  could  find  a  vulnerable  spot,  and  even  thrusting 
their  sabres  through  my  thick  woollen  gloves  into  the 
flesh.  They  must  be  extremely  hardy  insects,  for  I  am 
sure  such  arctic  weather  would  send  the  mosquitoes  of 
our  lower  altitudes  into  their  winter  hiding-places. 
People  who  think  there  are  no  mosquitoes  in  the  Rockies 
are  reckoning  without  their  hosts.  In  many  places  they 
assaulted  us  by  the  myriad  until  life  among  them  became 
intolerable,  and  some  were  found  even  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  perpetual  snow. 

Raw  as  the  morning  was,  the  hermit  thrushes,  moun- 
tain chickadees,  Audubon's  warblers,  gray-headed  j  un- 
cos, and  ruby-crowned  kinglets  were  giving  a  lively 
rehearsal.  How  shy  they  were  I  They  preferred  being 
heard,  not  seen.    Unexpectedly  I  found  a  hermit  thrush's 


236  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

nest  set  in  plain  sight  in  a  pine  bush.  One  would  have 
thought  so  shy  a  bird  would  make  some  attempt  at 
concealment.  It  was  a  well-constructed  domicile,  com- 
posed of  grass,  twigs,  and  moss,  but  without  mortar. 
The  shy  owner  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  nor  did  she  make 
any  outcry,  even  though  I  stood  for  some  minutes  close 
to  her  nest.  What  stolidity  the  mountain  birds  dis- 
play !  You  could  actually  rob  the  nests  of  some  of  them 
without  wringing  a  chirp  from  them.  On  two  later 
visits  to  the  place  I  found  Madame  Thrush  on  her  nest, 
where  she  sat  until  I  came  quite  close,  when  she  silently 
flitted  away  and  ensconced  herself  among  the  pines, 
never  chirping  a  syllable  of  protest  or  fear.  In  the 
bottom  of  the  pretty  crib  lay  four  deep-blue  eggs. 
Afterwards  I  found  one  more  hermit's  nest,  which  was 
just  in  process  of  construction.  In  this  case,  as  in  the 
first,  no  effort  was  made  at  concealment,  the  nest  being 
placed  in  the  crotch  of  a  (juaking  asp  a  rod  or  so  above 
the  trail,  from  which  it  could  be  plainly  seen.  The 
little  madame  was  carrying  a  load  of  timbers  to  her 
cottage  as  we  went  down  the  trail,  and  sat  in  the  nest 
moulding  and  putting  her  material  in  place  as  I  climbed 
up  the  steep  bank  to  inspect  her  work.  Then  she  flew 
away,  making  no  demonstration  while  I  examined  the 
nest. 

Having  eaten  our  breakfast  at  the  miner''s  cabin,  my 
youthful  companion  and  I  mounted  our  "  gayly  capari- 


HO!   FOR   GRAY'S   PEAK!  237 

soned  steeds,"  and  resumed  our  journey  toward  Gray's 
Peak.  The  birds  just  mentioned  greeted  us  with  their 
salvos  as  we  crept  along.  It  was  not  until  we  had  almost 
reached  the  timber-line  that  Gray's  Peak  loomed  in 
sight,  solemn  and  majestic,  photographed  against  the 
cobalt  sky,  with  its  companion-piece,  Torrey's  Peak, 
standing  sullen  beside  it.  The  twin  peaks  were  pointed 
out  to  us  by  another  miner  whom  we  met  at  his  shack  just 
a  little  below  the  timber-line,  and  who  obligingly  gave  us 
permission  to  "  bunk  "  in  one  of  the  cabins  of  what  is 
known  as  "  Stephen's  mine,"  which  is  now  abandoned  — 
or  was  at  the  time  of  our  visit.  Near  the  timber-line, 
where  the  valley  opens  to  the  sunlight,  we  found  a 
mountain  bluebird  flitting  about  some  old,  deserted 
buildings,  but,  strangely  enough,  this  was  the  last  time 
we  saw  him,  although  we  looked  for  him  again  and 
again.  Nor  did  we  see  another  mountain  blue  in  this 
alpine  eyrie. 

Our  burros  were  tethered  for  the  day  in  a  grassy  hol- 
low, our  effects  stowed  away  in  the  cabin  aforesaid, 
which  we  had  leased  for  a  few  days  ;  then,  with  luncheon 
strapped  over  our  shoulders  and  butterfly  net  and  field- 
glass  in  hand,  we  started  happily  up  the  valley  afoot 
toward  the  summit  of  our  aspirations,  Gray's  Peak,  ris- 
ing fourteen  thousand  four  hundred  and  forty-one  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea.  In  some  scrubby  pine  bushes 
above  timber-line  several  Audubon's  warblers  were  flit- 


238  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

ting  and  singing,  living  hard  by  the  white  fields  of  snow. 
Still  farther  up  the  hollow  Wilson^s  warblers  were  trill- 
ing blithely,  proclaiming  themselves  yet  more  venture- 
some than  their  gorgeous  cousins,  the  Audubons. 
There  is  reason  for  this  difference,  for  Wilson's  warblers 
nest  in  willows  and  other  bushes  which  thrive  on  higher 
ground  and  nearer  the  snowy  zone  than  do  the  pines  to 
which  Audubon's  warblers  are  especially  attached.  At 
all  events,  Sylvania  pusilla  was  one  of  the  two  species 
which  accompanied  us  all  the  way  from  Georgetown  to 
the  foot  of  Gray's  Peak,  giving  us  a  kind  of  "  person- 
ally conducted  "  journey. 

Our  other  brave  escorts  were  the  white-crowned  spar- 
rows, which  pureued  the  narrowing  valleys  until  they 
were  merged  into  the  snowy  gorges  that  rive  the  sides 
of  the  towering  twin  peaks.  In  the  arctic  gulches  the 
scrubby  copses  came  to  an  end,  and  therefore  the  white- 
crowns  ascended  no  higher,  for  they  are,  in  a  pre-eminent 
sense,  "  birds  of  the  bush.""  Subsequently  I  found  them 
as  far  up  the  sides  of  Mount  Kelso  as  the  thickets  ex- 
tended, which  was  hundreds  of  feet  higher  than  the 
snow-bound  gorges  just  mentioned,  for  Kelso  receives 
more  sunshine  than  his  taller  companions,  particularly 
on  his  eastern  side.  Brave  birds  are  these  handsome 
and  musical  sparrows.  It  was  interesting  to  see  them 
hopping  about  on  the  snow-fields,  picking  up  dainties 
from  the  white  crystals.     How  lyrical  they  were  in  this 


HO!   FOR   GRAY'S   PEAK! 

upper  mountain  valley!  As  has  been  said,  for  some 
unaccountable  reason  the  white-crowns  in  the  vicinity 
of  Georgetown  were  quite  chary  of  their  music.  Not  so 
those  that  dwelt  in  the  valley  below  Gray's  and  Torrey"*s 
peaks,  for  there  they  trilled  their  melodious  measures 
with  a  richness  and  abandon  that  were  enchanting. 

On  reaching  the  snow-belt,  though  still  a  little  below 
the  limit  of  copsy  growths,  we  saw  our  first  pipits, 
which,  it  will  be  remembered,  I  had  encountered  on  the 
summit  of  Pike's  Peak  two  years  before.  In  our  climb 
up  Gray's  Peak  we  found  the  pipit  realm  and  that  of  the 
white-crowned  sparrows  slightly  overlapping.  As  soon, 
however,  as  we  began  the  steep  climb  above  the  mat- 
ted copses,  the  white-crowns  disappeared  and  the  pipits 
grew  more  abundant.  At  frequent  intervals  these  birds 
would  suddenly  start  up  from  the  ground,  utter  their 
protesting  "  Te-cheer  !  te-cheer ! ""  and  hurl  themselves 
recklessly  across  a  snowy  gulch,  or  dart  high  into  the 
air  and  let  their  semi-musical  calls  drop  and  dribble 
from  the  turquoise  depths  of  the  sky.  Did  the  pipits 
accompany  you  to  the  summit  of  the  peak  ?  I  half  re- 
gret to  admit  that  they  did  not,  but  ceased  to  appear  a 
good  while  before  the  summit  was  attained.  This  is  all 
the  more  remarkable  when  it  is  remembered  that  these 
birds  were  extremely  abundant  on  the  crest  of  Pike's 
Peak,  where  they  behaved  in  a  "very-much-at-home" 
way. 


240  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

However,  there  was  ample  compensation  in  the  ascent 
of  Gray's  Peak.  As  we  clambered  up  the  steep  and 
rugged  side  of  the  mountain,  sometimes  wading  snow 
up  to  our  knees,  then  making  a  short  cut  straight  up 
the  acclivity  to  avoid  the  snow-banks,  unable  to  follow 
the  trail  a  large  part  of  the  way,  we  were  suddenly  made 
aware  of  the  presence  of  another  fearless  feathered  com- 
rade. With  a  chirp  that  was  the  very  quintessence  of 
good  cheer  and  lightness  of  heart,  he  hopped  about  on 
the  snow,  picking  dainties  from  his  immaculate  table- 
cloth, and  permitting  us  to  approach  him  quite  close 
before  he  thought  it  worth  while  to  take  to  wing.  We 
were  happy  indeed  to  meet  so  companionable  a  little 
friend,  one  that,  amid  these  lonely  and  awe-inspiring 
heights,  seemed  to  feel  so  much  at  ease  and  exhibited 
so  confiding  a  disposition.  Was  it  fancy  or  was  it 
really  true  ?  He  appeared  to  be  giving  us  a  hospitable 
welcome  to  his  alpine  home,  telling  us  we  might  ven- 
ture upward  into  cloudland  or  skyland  without  peril ; 
then,  to  make  good  his  assurance,  he  mounted  upward 
on  resilient  wings  to  prove  how  little  danger  there  was. 
We  were  doubly  glad  for  our  little  seer,  for  just  then 
we  needed  someone  to  "  prophesy  smooth  things  *"  to  us. 
The  bird  was  the  brown-capped  leucosticte  or  rosy  finch. 
Thus  far  I  have  used  the  singular  number,  but  the 
plural  would  have  been  more  accurate,  for  there  were 
many  of  these  finches  on  the  acclivity  and  summit,  all 


HO!   FOR   GRAY'S   PEAK!  241 

of  them  in  a  most  cheerful  mood,  their  good  will  and 
cordial  welcome  giving  us  a  pleasant  feeling  of  com- 
radery  as  we  journeyed  together  up  the  mountain  side. 

Our  climb  up  Gray''s  Peak  was  a  somewhat  memor- 
able event  in  our  experience,  and  I  am  disposed  to 
dwell  upon  it.  The  valley  which  we  had  followed  ter- 
minates in  a  deep  gorge,  filled  with  drift  snow  the  year 
round,  no  doubt,  and  wedging  itself  between  Gray''s  and 
Torrey's  shoulders  and  peaks.  Here  the  melting  snows 
form  the  head  waters  of  Clear  Creek,  whose  sinuous 
course  we  had  followed  by  rail,  foot,  and  burro  from 
the  city  of  Denver. 

The  trail,  leaving  the  ravine,  meandered  up  a  shoul- 
der of  the  mountain,  wheeled  to  the  left  and  crept  along 
a  ridge,  with  some  fine,  blood-curdling  abysses  on  the 
eastern  side ;  then  went  zigzagging  back  and  forth  on 
the  precipitous  wall  of  Gray's  titanic  mount,  until  at 
last,  with  a  long  pull  and  a  strong  pull,  it  scaled  the 
backbone  of  the  ridge.  All  this,  however,  is  much  more 
easily  told  than  done.  Later  in  the  season,  when  the 
trail  is  clear  of  snow-drifts,  sure-footed  horses  and  burros 
are  ridden  to  the  summit ;  but  we  were  too  early  to 
follow  the  trail  even  on  foot.  Indeed,  many  persons 
familiar  with  the  mountains  had  declared  that  we  could 
not  reach  the  top  so  early  in  the  season,  on  account  of 
the  large  snowbanks  that  still  covered  the  trail.  Even 
the  old  miner,  who  in  the  valley  below  pointed  out  the 

16 


242  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

peak  to  us,  expressed  grave  doubts  about  the  success 
and  wisdom  of  our  undertaking.  "  See ! "  he  said,  "  the 
trail 's  covered  with  snow  in  many  places  on  the  moun- 
tain side.  I  'm  afraid  you  can't  reach  the  top,  sir. "  I 
did  not  see  as  clearly  as  he  did,  but  said  nothing  aloud. 
In  my  mind  I  shouted,  "  Excelsior ! "  and  then  added, 
mentally,  of  course,  "  Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady 
or  fairer  mountain's  crest  —  hurrah  for  the  peak  !  "  I 
simply  felt  that  if  there  were  birds  and  butterflies  on 
that  sky-aspiring  tower,  I  must  see  them.  The  die  was 
cast ;  we  had  come  to  Colorado  expressly  to  climb  Gray's 
Peak,  and  climb  it  we  would,  or  have  some  good  reason 
to  give  for  not  doing  so. 

And  now  we  were  making  the  attempt.  We  had 
scarcely  reached  the  mountain's  shoulder  before  we 
were  obliged  to  wade  snow.  For  quite  a  distance 
we  were  able  to  creep  along  the  edge  of  the  trail,  or 
skirt  the  snow-beds  by  making  short  detours,  and 
then  returning  to  the  trail ;  but  by  and  by  we  came 
to  a  wide,  gleaming  snow-field  that  stretched  right 
athwart  our  path  and  brought  us  to  a  standstill  with 
the  exclamation,  "  What  shall  we  do  now  ?  "  Having 
already  sunk  a  number  of  times  into  the  snow  over  our 
boot-tops,  we  felt  that  it  would  not  be  safe  to  venture 
across  so  large  an  area  of  soft  and  treacherous  crystals 
melting  in  the  afternoon  sun  and  only  slightly  covering 
we  knew  not  what   deep  gorges.     In   some  places  we 


HO!   FOR   GRAY'S    PEAK!  243 

had  been  able  to  walk  on  the  top  of  the  spow,  but 
elsewhere  it  was  quite  soft,  and  we  could  hear  the 
gurgling  of  water  underneath,  and  sometimes  it  sounded 
a  little  more  sepulchral  than  we  liked.  Looking  far 
up  the  acclivity,  we  saw  still  larger  snow-fields  obliter- 
ating the  trail.  "  We  can  never  cross  those  snow- 
fields,"  one  of  us  declared,  a  good  deal  of  doubt  in  his 
tones.  A  moment's  reflection  followed,  and  then  the 
other  exclaimed  stoutly,  "Let  us  climb  straight  up, 
then  ! ''  To  which  his  companion  replied,  "  All  right, 
little  Corporal !     Beyond  the  Alps  lies  Italy  ! " 

Over  rocks  and  stones  and  stretches  of  gravel,  some- 
times loose,  sometimes  solid,  we  clambered,  half  the 
time  on  all  fours,  skirting  the  snow-fields  that  lay  in 
our  unblazed  pathway;  on  and  up,  each  cheering  the 
other  at  frequent  intervals  by  crying  lustily,  "  We  can 
make  it !  We  can  make  it ! "  ever  and  anon  throwing 
ourselves  on  the  rocks  to  recover  our  breath  and  rest 
our  aching  limbs  ;  on  and  up  we  scrambled  and  crept, 
like  ants  on  a  wall,  until  at  length,  reaching  the  ridge 
at  the  left  a  little  below  the  top,  we  again  struck  the 
trail,  when  we  stopped  a  few  minutes  to  catch  breath, 
made  one  more  mighty  effort,  and,  behold !  we  stood 
on  Gray's  summit,  looking  down  triumphantly  at  the 
world  crouching  at  our  feet.  Never  before  had  we  felt 
so  much  like  Jupiter  on  Olympus. 

In   making   the   ascent,  some   persons,  even   among 


GRAY'S  AND    TORREY'S  PEAKS 

G RAT'S  to  the  left,  Torrey  s  to  the  right.  As  the  lookout 
of  the  photographer  was  nearer  Torrey  s  than  Grays,  the 
former  appears  the  higher  in  the  picture,  while  the  reverse 
is  really  the  case.  The  trail  ivinds  through  a  ravine  at  the 
right  of  the  ridge  in  fro7it ;  then  creeps  along  the  farther 
side  of  the  ridge  above  the  gorge  at  Torrey  s  base  ;  comes  to  the 
crest  of  the  ridge  pretty  ?vell  toward  the  left  ;  then  crawls  and 
zigzags  back  and  forth  along  the  titanic  wall  of  Gray  s  to  the 
summit.  In  the  vale,  where  some  of  the  head  tvaters  of  Clear 
Creek  will  be  seen,  the  white-crowned  sparroivs  and  Wilson  s 
warblers  find  homes.  A  little  before  the  ascent  of  the  ridge 
begins,  the  first  pipits  are  seen  ;  thence  the  clamberer  has  pipit 
company  to  the  point  where  the  ridge  joins  the  main  bulk  oj  the 
mountain.  Here  the  pipits  stop,  and  the  first  leucostictes  are 
noted,  which,  chirping  cheerily  all  the  way,  escort  the  traveller 
to  the  summit. 


246  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

those  who  ride,  become  sick ;  others  suffer  with  bleed- 
ing at  the  nose,  and  others  are  so  overcome  with  ex- 
haustion and  weakness  that  they  cannot  enjoy  the 
superb  panorama  spread  out  before  them.  However 
you  may  account  for  it,  my  youthful  comrade  and  I, 
in  spite  of  our  arduous  climb,  were  in  excellent  physical 
condition  when  we  reached  our  goal,  suffering  no  pain 
whatever  in  eyes,  head,  or  lungs.  The  bracing  air, 
rare  as  it  was,  soon  exhilarated  us,  our  temporary 
weariness  disappeared,  and  we  were  in  the  best  of  trim 
for  scouring  the  summit,  pursuing  our  natural  history 
hobbies,  and  revelling  in  the  inspiring  cyclorama  that 
Nature  had  reared  for  our  delectation. 

My  pen  falters  when  I  think  of  describing  the  scene 
that  broke  upon  our  vision.  I  sigh  and  wish  the  task 
were  done.  The  summit  itself  is  a  narrow  ridge  on 
which  you  may  stand  and  look  down  the  declivities  on 
both  sides,  scarcely  having  to  step  out  of  your  tracks 
to  do  so.  It  is  quite  different  from  the  top  of  Pike's 
Peak,  which  is  a  comparatively  level  plateau  several 
acres  in  extent,  carpeted,  if  one  may  so  speak,  with 
immense  granite  rocks  piled  upon  one  another  or  laid 
side  by  side  in  semi-systematic  order ;  whereas  Gray's, 
as  has  been  said,  is  a  narrow  ridge,  composed  chiefly 
of  comparatively  small  stones,  with  a  sprinkling  of 
good-sized  boulders.  The  finer  rocks  give  the  impres- 
sion  of  having   been   ground    down    by  crushing  and 


HO!    FOR   GRAY'S    PEAK!  247 

attrition  to  their  present  dimensions  in  the  far-away, 
prehistoric  ages. 

A  short  distance  to  the  northwest  frowned  Torrey's 
Peak,  Gray's  companion-piece,  the  twain  being  con- 
nected by  a  ridge  which  dips  in  an  arc  perhaps  a 
hundred  feet  below  the  summits.  The  ridge  was 
covered  with  a  deep  drift  of  snow,  looking  as  frigid 
and  unyielding  as  a  scene  in  the  arctic  regions.  Torrey's 
is  only  a  few  feet  lower  than  Gray**s  —  one  of  my  books 
says  five.  Mention  has  been  made  of  its  forbidding 
aspect.  It  is  indeed  one  of  the  most  ferocious-looking 
mountains  in  the  Rockies,  its  crown  pointed  and  grim, 
•helmeted  with  snow,  its  sides,  especially  east  and  north, 
seamed  and  ridged  and  jagged,  the  gorges  filled  with 
snow,  the  beetling  cliffs  jutting  dark  and  threatening, 
bearing  huge  drifts  upon  their  shoulders.  Torrey's 
Peak  actually  seemed  to  be  calling  over  to  us  like 
some  boastful  Hercules,  "  Ah,  ha !  you  have  climbed  my 
mild-tempered  brother,  but  I  dare  you  to  climb  me ! " 
For  reasons  of  our  own  we  declined  the  challenge. 

The  panorama  from  Gray's  Peak  is  one  to  inspire 
awe  and  dwell  forever  in  the  memory,  an  alpine  wonder- 
land indeed  and  in  truth.  To  the  north,  northwest, 
and  west  there  stretches,  as  far  a^  the  eye  can  reach,  a 
vast  wilderness  of  snowy  peaks  and  ranges,  many  of  them 
with  a  rosy  glow  in  the  sunshine,  tier  upon  tier,  terrace 
above  terrace,  here  in  serried  ranks,  there  in  isolated 


PANORAMA  FROM  GRAYS  PEAK  — NORTHWEST 

The  picture  includes  the  northern  spur  of  Grays  Peak,  nith 
the  dismantled  signal  station  on  its  crest.  The  main  ridge 
of  the  peak  extends  out  to  the  left  of  the  signal  station. 
The  summit  is  so  situated  as  to  be  exposed  to  the  sun  the 
greater  part  of  the  day ;  hence,  although  it  is  the  highest 
point  in  the  region,  there  is  less  snow  upon  it  in  summer  than 
upon  many  of  the  surrounding  elevations.  Looking  northivest 
from  the  signal  station,  the  eye  falls  upon  a  wilderness  of  snow- 
clad  peaks  and  ranges,  some  standing  in  serried  ranks,  others  in 
picturesque  disorder.  It  is  truly  an  arctic  scene,  summer  or 
wilder.  Yet  it  is  the  summer  home  of  the  brown-capped  leu- 
costicte  and  the  white-tailed  ptarmigan,  which  range  in  happy 
freedom  over  the  upper  story  of  our  country. 


250  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

grandeur,  some  just  beyond  the  dividing  canons,  others 
fifty,  sixty,  a  hundred  miles  away,  cyclopean,  majestic, 
infinite.  Far  to  the  north,  Long's  Peak  lifts  his  seamed 
and  hoary  pyramid,  almost  as  high  as  the  crest  on 
which  we  are  standing ;  in  the  west  rise  that  famous 
triad  of  peaks.  Harvard,  Yale,  and  Princeton,  their 
fanelike  towers,  sketched  against  the  sky,  disputing 
the  palm  with  old  Gray  himself;  while  a  hundred  miles 
to  the  south  Pike's  Peak  stands  solitary  and  smiling  in 
the  sun,  seeming  to  say,  "  I  am  sufficient  unto  myself !  *" 
Between  our  viewpoint  and  the  last-named  mountain 
lies  South  Park,  like  a  paradise  of  green  immured  by 
guardian  walls  of  rock  and  snow,  and  far  to  the  east, 
beyond  the  billowing  ranges,  white,  gray,  and  green, 
stretch  the  limitless  plains,  vanishing  in  the  hazy  dis- 
tance. In  such  surroundings  one's  breast  throbs  and 
swells  with  the  thought  of  Nature's  omnipotence. 

The  summit  of  Gray's  Peak  is  a  favorable  viewpoint 
from  which  to  study  the  complexion,  the  idiosyncrasies, 
if  you  please,  of  individual  mountains,  each  of  which 
.seems  to  have  a  personality  of  its  own.  Here  is  Gray's 
Peak  itself,  calm,  smiling,  good-natured  as  a  summer 
morning ;  yonder  is  Torrey's,  next-door  neighbor,  cruel, 
relentless,  defiant,  always  threatening  Avith  cyclone  or 
tornado,  or  forging  the  thunder-bolts  of  Vulcan.  Some 
mountains  appear  grand  and  dignified,  others  look  like 
spitfires.     On  one  side  some  bear  smooth  and   green 


HO!   FOR   GRAY'S    PEAK!  5251 

slopes  almost  to  the  top,   while  the  other  is  scarred, 
craggy,  and  precipitous. 

The  day  was  serene  and  beautiful,  the  sky  a  deep 
indigo,  unflecked  with  clouds,  save  a  few  filmy  wracks 
here  and  there,  and  the  breeze  as  balmy  as  that  of  a 
May  morning  in  my  native  State.  So  quiet  was  the 
alpine  solitude  that  on  all  sides  we  could  hear  the 
solemn  roar  of  the  streams  in  the  ravines  hundreds  of 
feet  below,  some  of  them  in  one  key  and  some  in 
another,  making  almost  a  symphony.  For  several 
hours  we  tarried,  held  by  a  spell.  "  But  you  have  for- 
gotten your  ornithology  !  ^'  some  one  reminds  me.  No 
one  could  blame  me  if  I  had.  Such,  however,  is  not 
the  case,  for  ornithology,  like  the  poor,  is  never  far 
from  some  of  us.  The  genial  little  optimists  that  had 
been  hopping  about  on  the  snow  on  the  declivities  had 
acted  as  our  cicerones  clear  to  the  summit,  and  some  of 
them  remained  there  while  we  tarried.  Indeed  the  leu- 
costictes  were  quite  plentiful  on  the  mountain's  brow. 
Several  perched  on  the  dismantled  walls  of  the  aban- 
doned government  building  on  the  summit,  called  cheer- 
ily, then  wheeled  about  over  the  crest,  darted  out  and 
went  careering  over  the  gulches  with  perfect  aplomb, 
while  we  watched  them  with  envious  eyes,  wishing  we 
too  had  wings  like  a  leucosticte,  not  that  w^e  "  might 
fly  away,"  as  the  Psalmist  longed  to  do,  but  that  we 
might  scale  the  mountains  at  our  own  sweet  will.     The 


252 


BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 


Thistle  Butterfly 


favorite  occupation  of  our  little  conn-ades,  besides  fly- 
ing, was  hopping  about  on  the  snow  and  picking  up 
dainties  that  were  evidently  palatable.  Afterwards  we 
examined  the  snow,  and  found  several  kinds  of  small 
beetles  and  other  insects  creeping  up  through  it  or 
about  on  its  surface.  Without  doubt  these  were  leu- 
costicte's  choice  morsels.  Thus  Nature  spreads  her 
table  everywhere  with  loving  care  for  her  feathered 
children.  The  general  habits  of  the  rosy  finches  are 
elsewhere  depicted  in  this  volume.  It  only  remains 
to  be  said  that  they  were  much  more  abundant  and 
familiar  on  Gray's  Peak  than  on  Pike's  Peak,  —  that  is, 
at  the  time  of  my  respective  visits  to  those  summits. 
To  omit  all  mention  of  the  butterflies  seen  on  this 
trip  would  be  proof  of  avian  monomania  with  a 
vengeance.  The  lad  who  was  with  me  found 
a  number  of  individuals  of  two  species  zig- 
zagging over  the  summit,  and  occasionally  settling  upon 
the  rocks  right  by  the  fields  of  snow.     What  kind  of 


HO!    FOR   GRAY'S    PEAK!  253 

nectar  they  sipped  I  know  not,  for  there  were  no  flowers 
or  verdure  on  the  heights.  They  were  the  Painted 
Lady  or  Thistle  Butterfly  (Pyrameis  cardui)  and  the 
Western  White  (Pieris  Occident  alls).  He  captured  an 
individual  of  the  latter  species  with  his  net,  and  to-day 
it  graces  his  collection,  a  memento  of  a  hard  but  glori- 
ous climb.  The  descent  of  the  mountain  was  laborious 
and  protracted,  including  some  floundering  in  the  snow, 
but  was  accomplished  without  accident.  A  warm  sup- 
per in  the  miner^s  shack  which  we  had  leased  prepared 
us  for  the  restful  slumbers  of  the  night. 

Although  the  weather  was  so  cold  that  a  thin  coat- 
ing of  ice  was  formed  on  still  water  out  of  doors,  the 
next  morning  the  white-crowned  sparrows  were  singing 
their  sonatas  long  before  dawn,  and  when  at  peep  of  day 
I  stepped  outside,  they  were  flitting  about  the  cabins 
as  if  in  search  of  their  breakfast.  The  evening  before, 
I  left  the  stable-door  open  while  I  went  to  bring  the 
burros  up  from  their  grazing  plat.  When  I  returned 
with  the  animals,  a  white-crown  flew  out  of  the  build- 
ing just  as  I  stepped  into  the  entrance,  almost  fluttering 
against  my  feet,  and  chirping  sharply  at  what  he  seemed 
to  think  a  narrow  escape.  He  had  doubtless  gone  into 
the  stable  on  a  foraging  expedition. 

The  day  was  spent  in  exploring  the  valley  and  steep 
mountain  sides.  A  robin's  nest  was  found  a  little  below 
the  timber-line  on  the  slope  of  Mount  Kelso.     In  the 


254.  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

woods  a  short  distance  farther  down,  a  gray-headed 
j unco's  nest  was  discovered  after  a  good  deal  of  patient 
waiting.  A  female  was  preening  her  feathers  on  a 
small  pine-tree,  a  sure  sign  that  she  had  recently  come 
from  brooding  her  eggs.  Presently  she  began  to  flit 
about  from  the  tree  to  the  ground  and  back  again, 
making  many  feints  and  starts,  which  proved  that  she 
was  embarrassed  by  my  espionage  ;  but  at  last  she  dis- 
appeared and  did  not  return.  With  quickened  pulse  I 
approached  the  place  where  I  had  last  seen  her.  It  was 
not  long  before  she  flew  up  with  a  nervous  chirp,  reveal- 
ing a  pretty  domicile  under  a  roof  of  green  grass,  with 
four  daintily  speckled  eggs  on  the  concave  floor.  I 
noticed  especially  that  the  doorway  of  the  tiny  cottage 
was  open  toward  the  morning  sun. 

At  the  timber-line  there  were  i-uby-crowned  kinglets, 
mountain  chickadees,  and  gray-headed  j  uncos,  while 
far  above  this  wavering  boundary  a  pair  of  red-shafted 
flickers  were  observed  ambling  about  among  the  bushes 
and  watching  me  as  intently  as  I  was  watching  them. 
I  climbed  far  up  the  side  of  Mount  Kelso,  then  around 
its  rocky  shoulder,  following  an  old  trail  that  led  to 
several  abandoned  silver  mines,  but  no  new  birds 
rewarded  my  toilsome  quest,  although  I  was  pleased 
to  learn  that  the  pipits  and  leucostictes  did  not  give 
the  "  go-by ""  to  this  grand  old  mountain,  but  performed 
their  thrilling  calisthenics  in  the  air  about  its  slopes 


HO!   FOR   GRAY'S   PEAK! 


255 


and  ravines  with  as  much  grace  as  they  did  on  the  lof- 
tier mountain  peaks  the  day  before.  A  beautiful  fox 
and  three  cubs  were  seen  among  the  large  stones,  and 


Junco 

"  Under 
a  roof  of 
green  grass'' 


many  mountain  rats  and  a  sly   mink   went   scuttling 
about  over  the  rocks. 

On  the  morning  of  June  30  the  white-crowns,  as 
usual,  were  chanting  their  litanies  long  before  day 
broke.  We  left  the  enchanting  valley  that  morning, 
the  trills  of  the  white-crowns  ringing  in  the  alpenglow 
like  a  sad  farewell,  as  if  they  felt  that  we  should  never 
meet  again.     On  our  way  down  the  winding  road  we 


256  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

frequently  turned  to  gaze  with  longing  eyes  upon  the 
snowy  summits  of  the  twin  peaks,  Gray's  all  asmile  in 
the  sunshine,  and  Torrey's  —  or  did  we  only  imagine 
it  ?  —  relenting  a  little  now  that  he  was  looking  upon 
us  for  the  last  time.  Did  the  mountains  and  the  white- 
crowns  call  after  us,  "  Auf  wiedersehen ! "  or  was  that 
only  imagination  too? 


PLEASANT  OUTINGS 


PLEASANT   OUTINGS 

ONE  of  our  pleasantest  trips  was  taken  up  South 
Platte  Canon,  across  South  Park,  and  over  the 
range  to  Breckenridge.  The  town  lies  in  the 
valley  of  the  Blue  River,  the  famous  Ten  Mile  Range, 
with  its  numerous  peaks  and  bold  and  rugged  contour, 
standing  sentinel  on  the  west.  Here  we  found  many 
birds,  but  as  few  of  them  were  new,  I  need  not  stop  to 
enter  into  special  detail. 

At  the  border  of  the  town  I  found  my  first  green- 
tailed  towhee's  nest,  which  will  be  described  in  the  last 
chapter.  A  pair  of  mountain  bluebirds  had  snuggled 
their  nest  in  a  cranny  of  one  of  the  cottages,  and  an 
entire  family  of  blues  were  found  on  the  pine-clad  slope 
beyond  the  stream ;  white-crowned  sparrows  were  plen- 
tiful in  the  copses  and  far  up  the  bushy  ravines  and 
mountain  sides ;  western  chippies  rang  their  silvery 
peals ;  violet-green  swallows  wove  their  invisible  fabrics 
overhead  ;  j uncos  and  Audubon's  warblers  proclaimed 
their  presence  in  many  a  remote  ingle  by  their  little 
trills  ;  and  Brewer's  blackbirds  "  chacked ""  their  remon- 

259 


260  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

strance  at  every  intrusion  into  their  demesnes  ;  while  in 
many  a  woodsy  or  bushy  spot  the  long-crested  jays 
rent  the  air  with  their  raucous  outcries ;  nor  were  the 
broad-tailed  hummers  wanting  on  this  side  of  the  range, 
and  of  course  their  saucy  buzzing  was  heard  wherever 
they  darted  through  the  air. 

An  entire  day  was  spent  in  ascending  and  descending 
Peak  Number  Eight,  one  of  the  boldest  of  the  jutting 
crags  of  the  Ten   Mile  Range ;  otherwise  it  is  called 
Tillie  Ann,  in  honor  of  the  first  white  woman  known  to 
scale  its  steep  and  rugged  wall  to  the  summit.     She 
must  have  been  a  brave  and  hardy  woman,  and  cer- 
tainly deserves  a  monument  of  some  kind  in   memory 
of  her    achievement,    although  it    falls    to  the   lot  of 
few  persons  to  have  their  deeds  celebrated  by  a  tower- 
ing mountain  for  a  memorial.     While  not  as  high  by 
at  least  a  thousand  feet  as  Gray's  Peak,  it  was  fully  as 
difficult  of  access.     A  high  ridge  of  snow,  which  we  sur- 
mounted with  not  a  little  pride  and  exhilaration,  lay  on 
its  eastern  acclivity  within  a  few   feet  of  the  crest,  a 
white  crystalline  bank  gleaming  in  the  sun.     The  winds 
hurtling  over  the  summit  were  as  cold  and  fierce  as  old 
Boreas  himself,  so  that  I  was  glad  to  wear  woollen 
gloves  and  button  my  coat-collar  close  around  my  neck  ; 
yet  it  was  the  Fourth  of  July,  when  the  people  of  the 
East  were  sweltering  in  the  intense  heat  of  their  low 
altitudes.     It  was  a  surprise  to  us  to  find  the  wind  so 


PLEASANT   OUTINGS  26l 

• 

much  colder  here  than  it  had  been  on  the  twenty-eighth 
of  June  on  the  summit  of  Gray^s  Peak,  which  is  con- 
siderably farther  north.  However,  there  may  be  times 
when  the  meteorological  conditions  of  the  two  peaks 
are  reversed,  blowing  a  gale  on  Gray's  and  whispering 
a  zephyr  on  Tillie  Ann. 

The  usual  succession  of  birds  was  seen  as  we  toiled 
up  the  slopes  and  steep  inclines,  some  stopping  at  the 
timber-line  and  others  extending  their  range  far  up 
toward  the  alpine  zone.  In  the  pine  belt  below  the 
timber-line  a  pair  of  solitaires  were  observed  flitting 
about  on  the  ground  and  the  lower  branches  of  the 
trees,  but  vouchsafing  no  song.  In  the  same  woodland 
the  mountain  jays  held  carnival  —  a  bacchanalian  revel, 
judging  from  the  noise  they  made ;  the  ruby-crowned 
kinglets  piped  their  galloping  roundels  ;  a  number  of 
wood-pewees  —  western  species  —  were  screeching,  think- 
ing themselves  musical ;  siskins  were  flitting  about, 
though  not  as  numerous  as  they  had  been  in  the  piny 
regions  below  Gray's  Peak ;  and  here  for  the  first  time 
I  saw  olive-sided  flycatchers  among  the  mountains.  I 
find  by  consulting  Professor  Cooke  that  their  breeding 
range  is  from  seven  thousand  to  twelve  thousand  feet. 
A  few  juncos  and  ruby-crowned  kinglets  were  seen 
above  the  timber-line,  while  many  white-crowned  spar- 
rows, some  of  them  singing  blithely,  climbed  as  far  up 
the  mountain  side  as  the  stunted  copses  extended. 


262  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

Oddly  enough,  no  leucostictes  were  seen  on  this  peak. 
Why  they  should  make  their  homes  on  Pike's  and  Gray's 
Peaks  and  neglect  Tillie  Ann  is  another  of  those  puzzles 
in  featherdom  that  cannot  be  solved.     Must  a  peak  be 
over  fourteen   thousand   feet   above  sea-level  to   meet 
their  physiological  wants  in  the  summery  season  ?    Who 
can   tell  ?     There  were  pipits  on  this  range,  but,  for 
some  reason  that  was  doubtless  satisfactory  to  them- 
selves, they  were  much  shyer  than  their  brothers  and 
sisters  had  been  on  Gray's  Peak  and  Mount  Kelso  ;  more 
than  that,  they  were  seen   only  on  the  slopes  of  the 
range,  none  of  them  being  observed  on  the  crest  itself, 
perhaps  on  account  of  the  cold,  strong  gale  that  was 
blowing  across  the  snowy  heights.     A  nighthawk  was 
sailing  in  its  erratic  course  over  the  peaks  —  a  bit  of 
information  worth  noting,  none  of  these  birds  having 
been  seen  on  any  of  the  summits  fourteen  thousand  feet 
high.     These  matters  are  perhaps  not  of  supreme  inter- 
est, yet  they  have  their  Value  as  studies  in  comparative 
ornithology  and  are  helpful  in  determining  the  locale  of 
the  several  species  named.    In  the  same  interest  I  desire 
to   add    that    mountain    chickadees,    hermit    thrushes, 
warbling  vireos,  and  red-shafted  flickers  belong  to  my 
Breckenridge   list.     Besides,   what   I  think   must  have 
been  a  Mexican  crossbill  was  seen  one  morning  among 
the  pines,  and  also  a  large  hawk  and  two  kinds  of  wood- 
peckers, none  of  which  tarried  long  enough  to  permit 


PLEASANT   OUTINGS  263 

me  to  make  sure  of  their  identity.  The  crossbill  —  if 
the  individual  seen  was  a  bird  of  that  species  —  wore  a 
reddish  jacket,  explored  the  pine  cones,  and  sang  a  very 
respectable  song  somewhat  on  the  grosbeak  order,  quite 
blithe,  loud,  and  cheerful. 

On  our  return  trip  to  Denver  we  stopped  for  a  couple 
of  days  at  the  quiet  village  of  Jefferson  in  South  Park, 
and  we  shall  never  cease  to  be  thankful  that  our  good 
fairies  led  us  to  do  so.  \\Tiat  birds,  think  you,  find 
residence  in  a  green,  well-watered  park  over  nine  thou- 
sand feet  above  sea-level,  hemmed  in  by  towering,  snow- 
clad  mountains  ?  Spread  out  around  you  like  a  cyclorama 
lies  the  plateau  as  you  descend  the  mountain  side  from 
Kenosha  Pass  ;  or  wheel  around  a  lofty  spur  of  Mount 
Boreas,  and  you  almost  feel  as  if  you  must  be  entering 
Paradise.  It  was  the  fifth  of  July,  and  the  park  had 
donned  its  holiday  attire,  the  meadows  wearing  robes  of 
emerald,  dappled  here  and  there  with  garden  spots  of 
variegated  flowers  that  brought  more  than  one  excla- 
mation of  delight  from  our  lips. 

Before  leaving  the  village,  our  attention  was  called  to 
a  colony  of  cliff-swallows,  the  first  we  had  seen  in  our 
touring  among  the  mountains.  Against  the  bare  wall 
beneath  the  eaves  of  a  barn  they  had  plastered  their 
adobe,  bottle-shaped  domiciles,  hundreds  of  them,  some 
in  orderly  rows,  others  in  promiscuous  clusters.  At 
dusk,  when  we  returned  to  the  village,  the  birds  were 


SOUTH  PARK  FROM  KENOSHA    HILL 

A  PARADISE  of  green  efigirdled  hy  sno?v-jnafitled  mountains, 
making  a  summer  home  for  western  meadow-larks,  Brewer  s 
blackbirds,  desert  homed  larks,  and  western  Savanna  sparrows. 


266  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

going  to  bed,  and  it  was  interesting  to  watch  their 
method  of  retiring.  The  young  were  ah-eady  grown, 
and  the  entire  colony  were  converting  their  nests  into 
sleeping  berths,  every  one  of  them  occupied,  some  of  the 
partly  demolished  ones  by  two  and  three  birds.  But 
there  were  not  enough  couches  to  go  round,  and  several 
of  the  birds  were  crowded  out,  and  were  clinging  to  the 
side  of  the  wall  on  some  of  the  protuberances  left  from 
their  broken-down  clay  huts.  It  was  a  query  in  my 
mind  whether  they  could  sleep  comfortably  in  that 
strained  position,  but  I  left  them  to  settle  that  matter 
for  themselves  and  in  their  own  way. 

Leaving  the  town,  we  soon  found  that  the  irrigated 
meadows  and  bush-fringed  banks  of  the  stream  made 
habitats  precisely  to  the  taste  of  Brewer's  blackbirds, 
which  were  quite  plentiful  in  the  park.  My  companion 
was  "  in  clover,'^  for  numerous  butterflies  went  undulat- 
ing over  the  meadows,  leading  him  many  a  headlong 
chase,  but  frequently  getting  themselves  captured  in  his 
net.  Thus  occupied,  he  left  me  to  attend  to  the  birds. 
At  the  border  of  the  village  a  little  bird  that  was  new 
to  me  flitted  into  view  and  permitted  me  to  identify  it 
with  my  glass.  The  little  stranger  was  the  western 
savanna  sparrow.  South  Park  was  the  only  place  in 
my  Colorado  rambles  where  I  found  this  species,  and 
even  his  eastern  representative  is  known  to  me  very  im- 
perfectly and  only  as  a  migrant.     The  park  was  fairly 


PLEASANT   OUTINGS  267 

alive  with  savannas,  especially  in  the  irrigated  portions. 
I  wonder  how  many  millions  of  them  dwelt  in  this  vast 
Eden  of  green  almost  twice  as  large  as  the  State  of 
Connecticut !  The  little  cocks  were  incessant  singers, 
their  favorite  perches  being  the  wire  fences,  or  weeds 
and  grass  tufts  in  the  pastures.  Their  voices  are  weak, 
but  very  sweet,  and  almost  as  fine  as  the  sibilant  buzz 
of  certain  kinds  of  insects.  The  pretty  song  opens  with 
two  or  three  somewhat  prolonged  syllables,  running 
quite  high,  followed  by  a  trill  much  lower  in  the  scale, 
and  closes  with  a  very  fine,  double-toned  strain,  delivered 
with  the  rising  inflection  and  a  kind  of  twist  or  jerk  — 
"  as  if,"  say  my  notes,  "  the  little  lyrist  were  trying  to 
tie  a  knot  in  his  aria  before  letting  it  go.''  More  will 
be  said  about  these  charming  birds  before  the  end  of 
this  chapter. 

The  western  meadow-larks  were  abundant  in  the  park, 
delivering  with  great  gusto  their  queer,  percussive 
chants,  which,  according  to  my  notes,  "  so  often  sound 
as  if  the  birds  were  trying  to  crack  the  whip.""  The 
park  was  the  only  place  above  the  plains  and  mesas 
where  I  found  these  gifted  fluters,  with  the  exception 
of  the  park  about  Buena  Vista.  It  would  appear  that 
the  narrow  mountain  valleys,  green  and  grassy  though 
they  are,  do  not  appeal  to  the  larks  for  summer  homes ; 
no,  they  seem  to  crave  "  ampler  realms  and  spaces  "^  in 
which  to  spread  their  wings  and  chant  their  dithyrambs. 


268  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

Where  the  natural  streams  and  irrigating  ditches  do 
not  reach  the  soil  of  the  park  it  is  as  dry  and  parched 
as  the  plains  and  mesas.  In  fact,  the  park  is  only  a 
smaller  and  higher  edition  of  the  plains,  the  character 
of  the  soil  and  the  topography  of  the  land  in  both 
regions  being  identical.  Never  in  the  wet,  fresh 
meadows,  whether  of  plain  or  park,  only  on  the  arid 
slopes  and  hillocks,  will  you  find  the  desert  horned  larks, 
which  are  certainly  true  to  their  literary  cognomen,  if 
ever  birds  were.  How  they  revel  in  the  desert !  How 
scrupulously  they  draw  the  line  on  the  moist  and  emer- 
ald areas !  Surely  there  are  "  many  birds  of  many 
kinds,^'  and  one  might  appropriately  add,  "of  many 
minds,"  as  well ;  for,  while  the  blackbirds  and  savanna 
sparrows  eschew  the  desert,  the  horned  larks  show  the 
same  dislike  for  the  meadow.  In  shallow  pits  dug  by 
themselves  amid  the  sparse  buffalo  grass,  the  larks  set 
their  nests.  The  young  had  already  left  their  nurse- 
ries at  the  time  of  my  visit  to  the  park,  but  were  still 
receiving  their  rations  from  the  beaks  of  their  elders. 
On  a  level  spot  an  adult  male  with  an  uncommonly 
strong  voice  for  this  species  was  hopping  about  on  the 
ground  and  reciting  his  canticles.  Seeing  I  was  a 
stranger  and  evidently  interested  in  all  sorts  of  avian 
exploits,  he  decided  to  give  an  exhibition  of  what  might 
be  called  sky-soloing,  as  well  as  dirigible  ballooning. 
Starting  up  obliquely  from  the  ground,  he  continued  to 


PLEASANT   OUTINGS  269 

ascend  in  a  series  of  upward  leaps,  making  a  kind  of 
aerial  stairway,  up,  up,  on  and  up,  until  he  was  about 
the  size  of  a  humming-bird  framed  against  the  blue 
dome  of  the  sky.  So  far  did  he  plunge  into  the  ceru- 
lean depths  that  I  could  just  discern  the  movement  of 
his  wings.  While  scaling  the  air  he  did  not  sing,  but 
having  reached  the  proper  altitude,  he  opened  his  man- 
dibles and  let  his  ditty  filtrate  through  the  ether  like  a 
shower  of  spray.  It  could  be  heard  quite  plainly, 
although  at  best  the  lark's  song  is  a  weak,  indefinite 
twitter,  its  peculiar  characteristic  being  its  carrying 
quality,  which  is  indeed  remarkable. 

The  soloist  circled  around  and  around  in  the  upper  air 
so  long  that  I  grew  dizzy  watching  him,  and  my  eyes  be- 
came blinded  by  the  sun  and  the  glittering  sky.  How 
long  he  kept  up  his  aerial  evolutions,  singing  all  the 
while,  I  am  unprepared  to  announce,  for  I  was  too  much 
engrossed  in  watching  him  to  consult  my  timepiece; 
but  the  performance  lasted  so  long  that  I  was  finally 
obliged  to  throw  myself  on  my  back  on  the  ground  to 
relieve  the  strain  upon  me,  so  that  I  might  continue  to 
follow  his  movements.  I  venture  the  conjecture  that 
the  show  lasted  from  fifteen  to  twenty  minutes  ;  at  least, 
it  seemed  that  long  to  me  in  my  tense  state  of  body  and 
mind.  Finally  he  shot  down  like  an  arrow,  making  my 
head  fairly  whirl,  and  landed  lightly  on  the  ground, 
where  he  skipped  about  and  resumed  his  roundelay  as 


270  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

if  he  had  not  performed  an  extraordinary  feat.  This 
was  certainly  skylarking  in  a  most  literal  sense.  With 
the  exception  of  a  similar  exhibition  by  Townsend's  soli- 
taire —  to  be  described  in  the  closing  chapter  —  up  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Gray's  Peak,  it  was  the  most  won- 
derful avian  aeronautic  exploit,  accompanied  with  song, 
of  which  I  have  ever  been  witness.  It  is  odd,  too,  that 
a  bird  which  is  so  much  of  a  groundling  —  I  use  the 
term  in  a  good  sense,  of  course  —  should  also  be  so 
expert  a  sky-scraper.  I  had  listened  to  the  sky  song  of 
the  desert  horned  lark  out  on  the  plain,  but  there  he 
did  not  hover  long  in  the  air. 

The  killdeer  plovers  are  as  noisy  in  the  park  as  they 
are  in  an  eastern  pasture-field,  and  almost  as  plentiful. 
In  the  evening  near  the  village  a  pair  of  western  robins 
and  a  thieving  magpie  had  a  hard  tussle  along  the  fence 
of  the  road.  The  freebooter  was  carrying  something  in 
his  beak  which  looked  sadly  like  a  callow  nestling.  He 
tried  to  hide  in  the  fence-corners,  to  give  himself  a 
chance  to  eat  his  morsel,  but  they  were  hot  on  his  trail, 
and  at  length  he  flew  off  toward  the  distant  ridge. 
Where  did  the  robins  build  their  nests  ?  I  saw  no  trees 
in  the  neighborhood,  but  no  doubt  they  built  their  adobe 
huts  on  a  fence-rail  or  in  a  nook  about  an  old  building. 
Not  a  Say's  phcebe  had  we  thus  far  seen  on  this  jaunt 
to  the  mountains,  but  here  was  a  family  near  the  vil- 
lage, and,  sure  enough,  they  were  whistling  their  likely 


PLEASANT   OUTINGS 


271 


tunes,  the  first  time  I  had  ever  heard  them.  While  I 
had  met  with  these  birds  at  Glenwood  and  in  the  valley 
below  Leadville,  they  had  not  vouchsafed  a  song. 
What  is  the  tune  they  whistle  ?  Why,  to  be  sure,  it  is, 
"  Phe-be-e  !  phe-be-e  !  phe-e-e-bie  !  "  Their  voices  are 
stronger  and  more  mellifluent  than  the  eastern  phoebe's, 
but  the  manner  of  delivery  is  not  so  sprightly  and  glad- 
some. Indeed,  if  I  mistake  not,  there  is  a  pensive  strain 
in  the  lay  of  the  western  bird. 

A  few  cowbirds,  red-winged  blackbirds,  and  spotted 
sandpipers  were  seen  in  the  park,  but  they  are  too  famil- 
iar to  merit  more  than  casual  mention.     However,  let 
us  return    to    Brewer^s    blackbirds.     Closely    as    they 
resemble  the  bronzed  grackles  of  the  East,  there  are  some 
marked   differences   between  the   eastern   and   western 
birds  ;  the  westerners  are  not  so  large,  and  their  man- 
ners and  nesting  habits  are  more  like  those  of  the 
redwings   than    the   grackles.      Brewer's  blackbirds 
hover  overhead  as  you  come  into  the  neighborhood 
of  their  nests  or  young,  and  the  males  utter  their 
caveats  in  short  squeals  or  screeches  and  the 
females  in  harsh  "chacks." 

The  nests  are  set  in  low  bushes  and 
even  on  the  ground,  while  those  of 
the  grackles  are  built 
in  trees  and  some 
times  in  cavities.    To 


"  They  were  hot  on 
his  trail " 


272  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

be  exact  and  scientific,  Brewer's  blackbirds  belong  to 
the  genus  Icolecophagus,  and  the  grackles  to  the  genus 
Quiscalus.  In  the  breeding  season  the  western  birds 
remain  in  the  park.  That  cntical  period  over,  in 
August  and  September  large  flocks  of  them,  including 
young  and  old,  ascend  to  favorite  feeding  haunts  far 
above  the  timber-line,  ranging  over  the  slopes  of  the 
snowy  mountains  engirdling  their  summer  home.  Then 
thev  are  in  the  heyday  of  blackbird  life.  Silverspot 
himself,  made  famous  by  Ernest  Thompson  Seton,  did 
not  lead  a  more  romantic  and  adventurous  life,  and  I 
hope  some  day  Brewer's  blackbird  will  be  honored  by 
a  no  less  effective  biography. 

What  a  to-do  they  make  when  you  approach  their 
outdoor  hatchery !  Yet  they  are  sly  and  diplomatic. 
One  day  I  tried  my  best  to  find  a  nest  with  eggs  or 
bantlings  in  it,  but  failed,  although,  as  a  slight  com- 
pensation, I  succeeded  in  discovering  three  nests  from 
which  the  young  had  flown.  The  old  birds  of  both 
sexes  circled  overhead,  called  and  pleaded  and  scolded, 
and  sometimes  swooped  down  quite  close  to  my  scalp, 
always  veering  off  in  time  to  avoid  actual  collision.  A 
pair  of  them  held  choice  morsels  —  choice  for  Brewer's 
blackbirds  —  in  their  bills,  and  I  sat  down  on  a  tuft  of 
sod  and  watched  them  for  a  couple  of  hours,  hoping 
they  would  feed  their  young  in  plain  sight  and  divulge 
their  secret  to  me ;  but  the  sable  strategists  flitted  here 


PLEASANT  OUTINGS  273 

and  there,  hovered  in  the  air,  dropped  to  the  ground, 
visiting  every  bush  and  grass-tuft  but  the  right  one, 
and  finally  the  worms  held  in  their  bills  disappeared, 
whether  into  their  own  gullets  or  those  of  their  fledge- 
lings, I  could  not  tell.  If  the  latter,  the  rascals  were 
unconscionably  wary,  for  my  eyes  were  bent  on  them 
every  moment  —  at  least,  I  thought  so.  Again  and 
again  they  flew  off"  some  distance,  never  more  than  a 
stone's  throw,  strutted  about  for  a  few  minutes  among 
the  tufts  of  grass  and  sod,  then  came  back  with  loud 
objurgations  to  the  place  where  I  sat.  They  seemed  to 
he  aware  of  my  inspection  the  moment  my  field-glass 
was  turned  upon  them,  for  they  would  at  once  cease 
their  pretended  search  for  insects  in  the  grass  and 
fly  toward  me  with  a  clamorous  berating  giving  me 
a  big  piece  of  their  mind.  At  length  my  patience 
was  worn  out ;  I  began  to  hunt  for  nests,  and  found 
the  three  empty  abodes  to  which  allusion  has  been 
made. 

For  the  most  part  the  female  cried,  "  Chack  !  chack  !  *" 
but  occasionally  she  tried  to  screech  like  her  ebon  con- 
sort, her  voice  breaking  ludicrously  in  the  unfeminine 
effort.  The  evening  before,  I  had  flushed  a  youngster 
about  which  a  great  hubbub  was  being  made,  but  on 
the  day  of  my  long  vigil  in  the  meadow,  I  could  not,  by 
the  most  careful  search,  find  a  single  bantling,  either  in 
or  out  of  a  nest.     It  is  odd  how  effectually  the  young 

18 


274  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

are  able  to  conceal  themselves  in  the  short  grass  and 
straggling  bushes. 

Not  a  little  attention  was  given  to  the  western 
savanna  sparrows,  whose  songs  have  already  been  de- 
scribed. Abundant  proof  was  furnished  that  the  breed- 
ing season  for  these  little  birds  was  at  its  height,  and  I 
determined  to  find  a  nest,  if  within  the  range  of  possi- 
bility. An  entire  forenoon  was  spent  in  discovering 
three  nests.  As  you  approach  their  domiciles,  the 
cocks,  which  are  always  on  the  alert,  evidently  give  the 
alarm  to  their  sitting  mates,  which  thereupon  slip  sur- 
reptitiously from  the  nest;  and  in  that  case  how  are 
you  going  to  ferret  out  their  domestic  secrets  ? 

A  female  —  I  could  distinguish  her  from  her  consort 
by  her  conduct  —  was  sitting  on  the  post  of  a  wire 
fence,  preening  her  feathers,  which  was  sufficient  evi- 
dence that  she  had  just  come  from  brooding  her  eggs. 
To  watch- her  until  she  went  back  to  her  nest,  then 
make  a  bee-line  for  it  —  that  was  the  plan  I  resolved  to 
pursue.  It  is  an  expedient  that  succeeds  with  many 
birds,  if  the  observer  is  very  quiet  and  tactful.  For  a 
long  time  I  stood  in  the  blazing  sun  with  my  eyes  bent 
on  the  little  impostor.  Back  and  forth,  hither  and  yon, 
she  flew,  now  descending  to  the  ground  and  creeping 
slyly  about  in  the  grass,  manifestly  to  induce  me  to  ex- 
amine the  spot ;  then  back  to  the  fence  again,  chirping 
excitedly  ;  then  down  at  another  place,  employing  every 


PLEASANT   OUTINGS  275 

artifice  to  make  me  think  the  nest  was  where  it  was 
not ;  but  I  steadfastly  refused  to  budge  from  my  tracks 
as  long  as  she  came  up  in  a  few  moments  after  descend- 
ing, for  in  that  case  I  knew  that  she  was  simply  resort- 
ing to  a  ruse  to  lead  me  astray.  Finally  she  went 
down  at  a  point  which  she  had  previously  avoided,  and, 
as  it  was  evident  she  was  becoming  exceedingly  anxious 
to  go  back  upon  her  eggs,  I  watched  her  like  a  tiger 
intent  on  his  prey.  Slyly  she  crept  about  in  the  grass, 
presently  her  chirping  ceased,  and  she  disappeared. 

Several  minutes  passed,  and  she  did  not  come  up, 
so  I  felt  sure  she  had  gone  down  for  good  this  time, 
and  was  sitting  on  her  nest.  Her  husband  exerted 
himself  to  his  utmost  to  beguile  my  attention  with  his 
choicest  arias,  but  no  amount  of  finesse  would  now  turn 
me  from  my  purpose.  I  made  a  bee-line  for  the  spot 
where  I  had  last  seen  the  madame,  stopping  not,  nor 
veering  aside  for  water,  mud,  bushes,  or  any  other  ob- 
stacle. A  search  of  a  couple  of  minutes  brought  no 
find,  for  she  had  employed  all  the  strategy  of  which  she 
was  mistress  in  going  to  the  nest,  having  moused  along 
in  the  grass  for  some  distance  after  I  had  last  seen  her. 
I  made  my  search  in  an  ever-widening  circle,  and  at 
length  espied  some  dry  grass  spears  in  a  tuft  right  at 
my  feet ;  then  the  little  prospective  mother  flitted  from 
her  nest  and  went  trailing  on  the  ground,  feigning  to 
be  fatally  wounded. 


276  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

Acquainted  with  such  tactics,  I  did  not  follow  her, 
not  even  with  my  eye,  but  looked  down  at  my  feet. 
Ah  !  the  water  sprites  had  been  kind,  for  there  was  the 
dainty  crib,  set  on  a  high  tuft  of  sod  raised  by  the  win- 
ter's frosts,  a  little  island  castle  in  the  wet  marsh,  cosey 
and  dry.  It  was  my  first  savanna  sparrow"'s  nest, 
whether  eastern  or  western.  The  miniature  cottage 
was  placed  under  a  fragment  of  dried  cattle  excrement, 
which  made  a  slant  roof  over  it,  protecting  it  from  the 
hot  rays  of  the  sun.  Sunken  slightly  into  the  ground, 
the  nesfs  rim  was  flush  with  the  short  grass,  while  the 
longer  stems  rose  about  it  in  a  green,  filmy  wall  or 
stockade.  The  holdings  of  the  pretty  cup  were  four 
pearls  of  eggs,  the  ground  color  white,  the  smaller  end 
and  middle  peppered  finely  with  brown,  the  larger  al- 
most solidly  washed  with  pigment  of  the  same  tint. 

Two  more  savannas'  nests  were  found  not  long  after- 
wards, one  of  them  by  watching  the  female  until  she 
settled,  the  other  by  accidentally  flushing  her  as  I 
walked  across  the  marshy  pasture  ;  but  neither  of  them 
was  placed  under  a  roof  as  the  first  one  had  been,  the 
blue  dome  being  their  only  shelter.  These  birdlets  seem 
to  be  especially  fond  of  soggy  places  in  pastures,  setting 
their  nests  on  the  little  sod  towers  that  rise  above  the 
surrounding  water. 

All  the  birds  seen  in  the  park  have  now  been 
mentioned.     It  was  an  idyllic  spot,  and  I  have  often 


PLEASANT  OUTINGS  277 

regretted  that  I  did  not  spend  a  week  in  rambling 
over  it  and  making  excursions  to  the  engirdling  ridges 
and  peaks.  A  few  suggestive  questions  arise  relative 
to  the  migratory  habits  of  the  feathered  tenants  of  a 
mountain  park  like  this,  for  most  of  those  that  have 
been  named  are  only  summer  residents.  How  do 
they  reach  this  immured  Eden  at  the  time  of  the  spring 
migration?  One  may  conjecture  and  speculate,  but 
one  cannot  be  absolutely  sure  of  the  precise  course  of 
their  annual  pilgrimage  to  their  summer  Mecca.  Of 
course,  they  come  up  from  the  plains,  where  the  spring 
arrives  much  earlier  than  it  does  in  the  higher  altitudes. 
Our  nomads  may  ascend  by  easy  stages  along  the  few 
caiions  and  valleys  leading  up  from  the  plains  to  this 
mountain-girt  plateau;  or  else,  rising  high  in  air  at 
eventide  —  for  most  birds  perform  their  migrations  at 
night  —  they  may  fly  over  the  passes  and  mountain 
tops,  and  at  dawn  descend  to  the  park. 

Neither  of  these  hypotheses  is  free  from  objection, 
for,  on  the  one  hand,  it  is  not  likely  that  birds,  which 
cannot  see  in  the  dark,  w  ould  take  the  risk  of  dashing 
their  brains  out  against  the  cliff's  and  crags  of  the  caiions 
by  following  them  at  night ;  yet  they  may  depart  from 
their  usual  habit  of  nocturnal  migration,  and  make  the 
journey  up  the  gorges  and  vales  by  day.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  nights  are  so  cold  in  the  elevated  regions 
that  the  little  travellers'  lives  might  be  jeopardized  by 


278  BIRDS    OF   THE    ROCKIES 

nocturnal  flight  over  the  passes  and  peaks.  There  is 
one  thing  certain  about  the  whole  question,  perplexing 
as  it  may  be  —  the  feathered  pilgrims  reach  their  sum- 
mer quarters  in  some  way,  and  seem  to  be  very  happy 
while  they  remain. 

We  stopped  at  a  number  of  places  in  our  run  down 
South  Platte  Canon,  adding  no  new  birds  to  our  list, 
but  making  some  interesting  observations.  At  Cassel's 
a  house-wren  had  built  a  nest  on  the  veranda  of  the 
hotel  where  people  were  sitting  or  passing  most  of  the 
time,  and  was  feeding  her  tiny  brood.  In  the  copse 
of  the  hollow  below  the  resort,  the  mountain  song- 
sparrows  were  trilling  sweetly — the  only  ones  we  had 
encountered  in  our  wanderings  since  leaving  Arvada  on 
the  plains.  These  musicians  seem  to  be  rather  finical 
in  their  choice  of  summer  resorts.  Chaseville  is  about 
a  mile  below  Cassel's,  and  was  made  memorable  to  us 
by  the  discovery  of  our  second  green -tailed  towhee's 
nest,  a  description  of  which  I  have  decided  to  reserve 
for  the  last  chapter  of  this  volume.  Lincoln's  sparrows 
descanted  in  rich  tones  at  various  places  in  the  bushy 
vales,  but  were  always  as  wild  as  deer,  scuttling  into 
the  thickets  before  a  fair  view  of  them  could  be 
obtained. 

The  veranda  of  a  boarding-house  at  Shawnee  was  the 
site  of  another  house-wren's  nest.  While  I  stood  quite 
close  watching  the  little  mother,  she  fed  her  bantlings 


PLEASANT   OUTINGS  279 

twice  without  a  quaver  of  fear,  the  youngsters  chirping 
loudly  for  more  of  "  that  good  dinner.""  At  this  place 
bam  swallows  were  describing  graceful  circles  and  loops 
in  the  air,  and  a  sheeny  violet-green  swallow  squatted 
on  the  dusty  road  and  took  a  sun-bath,  which  she  did  by 
fluffing  up  all  her  plumes  and  spreading  out  her  wings 
and  tail,  so  that  the  rays  could  reach  every  feather  with 

,1.  i/»i  ii  iTii         Ti  Violet-green  Swallow 

their  graterul  warmth  and  light,     it 
was  a  pretty  performance. 

A    stop-over    at    Bailey's 
proved  satisfactory  for  sev-     _^„^^^i|^^^^^^^v    \^  ^       "^  4 
eral  reasons,  among  which 
was  the  finding  of  the   Lou- 
isiana tanagers,  which  were  the  first 
we  had  seen  on  this  trip,  although  many  of  them  had  «  Squatted  on  the 

been    observed   in    the   latitude    of  Colorado    Springs.     ,   ^^2/  road  and 

/  °  took  a  sun-oath 
Afterwards  we  found  them  abundant  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Boulder.  The  only  pigmy  nuthatches  of  this 
visit  were  seen  in  a  ravine  above  Bailey's.  In  the  same 
wooded  hollow  I  took  occasion  to  make  some  special 
notes  on  the  quaint  calls  of  th^  long-crested  jays,  a 
task  that  I  had  thus  far  deferred  from  time  to  time. 
There  was  an  entire  family  of  jays  in  the  ravine,  the 
elders  feeding  their  strapping  youngsters  in  the  cus- 
tomary manner.  These  birds  frequently  give  voice  to  a 
strident  call  that  is  hard  to  distinguish  from  the  cries 
of  their  kinsmen,  the  mountain  jays.     When  I  pursued 


280  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

the  couple  that  were  attending  to  the  gastronomical 
wants  of  their  children,  one  of  the  adults  played  a  yodel 
on  his  trombone  sounding  like  this  :  "  Ka-ka-ka,  k-wilt, 
k-wilt,  k-wilt,''  the  first  three  short  syllables  enunciated 
rapidly,  and  the  "  k-wilts "  in  a  more  measured  way, 
with  a  peculiar  guttural  intonation,  giving  the  full  sound 
to  the  k  and  w.  The  birds  became  very  shy  when  they 
thought  themselves  shadowed,  not  understanding  what 
my  pursuit  might  imply,  and  they  gave  utterance  to 
harsh  cries  of  warning  that  were  different  from  any  that 
had  preceded.  It  was  presently  followed  by  a  soft  and 
friendly  chatter,  as  if  the  birds  were  having  an  inter- 
view that  was  exclusively  inter  se.  Then  one  of  them 
startled  me  by  breaking  out  in  a  loud,  high  key,  cry- 
ing, "  Quick  !  quick  !  quick  ! ''  as  fast  as  he  could  fling 
the  syllables  from  his  tongue.  This,  being  translated 
into  our  human  vernacular,  obviously  meant,  **  Hurry 
off!  danger!  danger!""  A  few  minutes  of  silence  fol- 
lowed the  outburst,  while  the  birds  ambled  farther 
away,  and  then  the  echoes  were  roused  by  a  most 
raucous  call,  "  Go- ware  !  go-ware  !  go-ware  ! "'''  in  a  voice 
that  would  have  been  enough  to  strike  teiTor  to  the 
heart  of  one  who  was  not  used  to  uncanny  sounds  in 
solitary  places.  After  that  outburst  the  family  flew 
off,  and  I  could  hear  them  talking  the  matter  over 
among  themselves  far  up  the  mountain  side,  no  doubt 
congratulating    one    another     on    their    hair-breadth 


PLEASANT   OUTINGS  281 

escape.  The  youngsters  looked  quite  stylish  with  their 
quaint  little  blue  caps  and  neatly  fitting  knickerbockers. 
At  Bailey's  I  found  my  first  and  only  white-crowned 
sparrow''s  nest  for  this  trip,  although  two  years  before  I 
was  fortunate  enough  to  discover  several  nests  in  the 
valleys  creeping  from  the  foot  of  Pike's  Peak.  At  dusk 
one  evening  I  was  walking  along  the  railway  below  the 
village,  listening  to  the  sweetly  pensive  trills  of  the 
white-crowns  in  the  bushes  bordering  the  creek,  when 
there  was  a  sharp  chirp  in  the  willows,  and  a  female 
white-crown  darted  over  to  my  side  of  the  stream 
and  slipped  quietly  into  a  thick  bush  on  the  bank.  I 
stepped  down  to  the  spot,  and  the  pretty  madame  leaped 
away,  uncovering  a  well-woven  nest  containing  four 
white  eggs  speckled  with  dark  brown.  All  the  while 
her  spouse  was  trilling  with  might  and  main  on  the 
other  side  of  the  creek,  to  make  believe  that  there  was 
nothing  serious  happening,  no  nest  that  any  one  cared 
anything  about.  His  mate  could  not  disguise  her  ag- 
itation by  assuming  nonchalance,  but  flitted  about  in 
the  willows  and  chirped  pitifully.  I  hurried  away  to 
relieve  her  distress.  The  cottages  on  the  slopes  were 
gay  with  tourists  enjoying  their  summer  outing,  and 
beautiful  Kiowa  Lodge,  perched  on  a  shoulder  of  the 
mountain  among  embowering  pines,  glowed  with  incan- 
descent lights,  while  its  blithe-hearted  guests  pursued 
their  chosen  kinds  of  pastime  ;  but  none  of  them,  I  ven- 


282  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

ture  to  assert,  were  happier  than  the  little  white-crown 
in  her  grassy  lodge  on  the  bank  of  the  murmuring 
stream. 

On  the  way  down  the  caiion,  -as  we  were  going  to 
Denver,  I  was  able  to  add  three  belted  kingfishers  to 
my  bird-roll  of  Colorado  species,  the  only  ones  I  saw  in 
the  Rockies. 

Our  jaunt  of  1901  included  a  trip  to  Boulder  and 
a  thrilling  swing  around  the  far-famed  ''  Switzerland 
Trail "  to  Ward,  perched  on  the  mountain  sides  among 
the  clouds  hard  by  the  timber-line.  Almost  every- 
where we  met  with  feathered  comrades  ;  in  some  places, 
especially  about  Boulder,  many  of  them  ;  but  no  new 
species  were  seen,  and  no  habits  observed  that  have  not 
been  sufficiently  delineated  in  other  parts  of  this  book. 
If  one  could  only  observe  all  the  birds  all  the  time  in 
all  places,  what  a  happy  life  the  bird-lover  would  live  ! 
It  is  with  feelings  of  mingled  joy  and  sadness  that  one 
cons  Longfellow's  melodious  lines  :  — 

"  Think  every  morning  when  the  sun  peeps  through 
The  dim,  leaf-latticed  windows  of  the  grove. 

How  jubilant  the  happy  birds  renew 
Their  old,  melodious  madrigals  of  love  ! 

And  when  you  think  of  this,  remember  too 
Tis  always  morning  somewhere,  and  above 

The  awakened  continents,  from  shore  to  shore, 

Somewhere  the  birds  are  singing  evermore. " 


A  NOTABLE  QUARTETTE 


A   NOTABLE   QUARTETTE  ^ 

ON  the  plains  of  Colorado  there  dwells  a  feath- 
ered choralist  that  deserves  a  place  in  Amer- 
ican bird  literature,  and  the  day  will  perhaps 
come  when  his  merits  will  have  due  recognition,  and 
then  he  shall  have  not  only  a  monograph,  but  also  an 
ode  all  to  himself. 

The  bird  to  which  I  refer  is  called  the  lark  bunting 
in  plain  English,  or,  in  scientific  terms,  Calamospiza 
melanocorys.  The  male  is  a  trig  and  handsome  fellow, 
giving  vou  the  impression  of  a  well-dressed  gentleman 
in  his  Sunday  suit  of  black,  "  with  more  or  less  of  a 
slaty  cast,"  as  Ridgway  puts  it,  the  middle  and  greater 
wing-coverts  bearing  a  conspicuous  white  patch  which 
is  both  a  diagnostic  marking  and  a  real  ornament.  In 
flight  this  patch  imparts  to  the  wing  a  filmy,  almost 

1  The  author  is  under  special  obligation  to  Mr.  John  P.  Haines, 
editor  of  "  Our  Animal  Friends,"  and  president  of  the  American 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  for  pubhshing 
the  contents  of  this  chapter  in  his  magazine  in  time  to  be  included 
in  this  volume.  Also  for  copyright  privileges  in  connection  with 
this  and  other  chapters. 

285 


286  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

semi-transparent,  aspect.  The  bunting  is  about  the  size 
of  the  eastern  bobolink,  and  bears  some  resemblance  to 
that  bird ;  but  boboHnk  he  is  not,  although  sometimes 
mistaken  for  one,  and  even  called  by  that  name  in  Col- 
orado. The  fact  is,  those  wise  men,  the  systematists, 
have  decided  that  the  bobolink  belongs  to  the  family 
Icteridce,  which  includes,  among  others,  the  blackbirds 
and  orioles,  while  the  lark  bunting  occupies  a  genus 
all  by  himself  in  the  family  Fringillidce  —  that  is,  the 
family  of  finches,  sparrows,  grosbeaks,  and  towhees. 
Therefore,  the  two  birds  can  scarcely  be  called  second 
cousins.  The  bunting  has  no  white  or  buff  on  his  upper 
parts. 

Sitting  on  a  sunny  slope  one  June  evening,  I  surren- 
dered myself  to  the  spell  of  the  bunting,  and  endeavored 
to  make  an  analysis  of  his  minstrelsy.  First,  it  must 
be  said  that  he  is  as  fond  as  the  bobolink  of  rehearsing 
his  arias  on  the  wing,  and  that  is,  perhaps,  the  chief 
reason  for  his  having  been  mistaken  for  that  bird  by 
careless  observers.  Probably  the  major  part  of  his  solos 
are  recited  in  flight,  although  he  can  sit  quietly  on  a 
weed-stalk  or  a  fence-post  and  sing  as  sweetly,  if  not  as 
ecstatically,  as  if  he  were  curveting  in  the  air.  During 
this  aerial  performance  he  hovers  gracefully,  bending 
his  wings  downward,  after  the  bobolink's  manner,  as  if 
he  were  caressing  the  earth  beneath  him.  However,  a 
striking  difference  between  his  intermittent  song-flights 


A   NOTABLE   QUARTETTE  287 

and  those  of  the  boboHnk  is  to  be  noted.  The  latter 
usually  rises  in  the  air,  soars  around  in  a  curve,  and 
returns  to  the  perch  from  which  he  started,  or  to  one 
near  by,  describing  something  of  an  ellipse.  The  lark 
bunting  generally  rises  obliquely  to  a  certain  point, 
then  descends  at  about  the  same  angle  to  another  perch 
opposite  the  starting-point,  describing  what  might  be 
called  the  upper  sides  of  an  isosceles  triangle,  the  base 
being  a  line  near  the  ground,  connecting  the  perch 
from  which  he  rose  and  the  one  on  which  he  alighted. 
I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  our  bunting  never  circles, 
but  simply  that  such  is  not  his  ordinary  habit,  while 
sweeping  in  a  circle  or  ellipse  is  the  favorite  pastime 
of  the  eastern  bobolink.  The  ascent  of  neither  bird  is 
very  high.  They  are  far  from  deserving  the  name  of 
skylarks. 

We  must  give  a  detailed  account  of  the  bunting''s 
song.  Whatever  others  may  think  of  him,  I  have  come 
under  the  spell  of  his  lyrical  genius.  True,  his  voice 
has  not  the  loud,  metallic  ring,  nor  his  chanson  the 
medley-like,  happy-go-lucky  execution,  that  marks  the 
musical  performances  of  the  bobolink ;  but  his  song  is 
more  mellow,  rhythmic,  themelike ;  for  he  has  a  distinct 
tune  to  sing,  and  sing  it  he  will.  In  fine,  his  song  is  of 
a  different  order  from  that  of  the  bobolink,  and,  there- 
fore, the  comparison  need  be  carried  no  further. 

As  one  of  these  minstrels  sat  on  a  flowering  weed  and 


288  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

gave  himself  up  to  a  lyrical  transport,  I  made  careful 
notes,  and  now  give  the  substance  of  my  elaborate 
entries.  The  song,  which  is  intermittent,  opens  with 
three  prolonged  notes  running  high  in  the  scale,  and  is 
succeeded  by  a  quaint,  rattling  trill  of  an  indescribable 
character,  not  without  musical  effect,  which  is  followed 
by  three  double-toned  long  notes  quite  different  from 
the  opening  phrases ;  then  the  whole  performance  is 
closed  by  an  exceedingly  high  and  fine  run  like  an 
insect's  hum  —  so  fine,  indeed,  that  the  auditor  must 
be  near  at  hand  to  notice  it  at  all.  Sometimes  the 
latter  half  of  the  score,  including  the  second  triad  of 
long  notes,  is  repeated  before  the  soloist  stops  to  take 
breath.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  regular  song  consists 
of  four  distinct  phrases,  two  triads  and  two  trills. 
About  one- third  of  the  songs  are  opened  in  a  little 
lower  key  than  the  rest,  the  remainder  being  corre- 
spondingly mellowed.  The  opening  syllables,  and,  in- 
deed, some  other  parts  of  the  melody  as  well,  are  very 
like  certain  strains  of  the  song-sparrow,  both  in  execu- 
tion and  in  quality  of  tone ;  and  thus  even  the  expe- 
rienced ornithologist  may  sometimes  be  led  astray. 
When  the  bunting  sails  into  the  air,  he  rehearses  the 
song  just  described,  only  he  is  very  likely  to  prolong 
it  by  repeating  the  various  parts,  though  I  think  he 
seldom,  if  ever,  throws  them  together  in  a  hodge-podge. 
He  seems  to  follow  a  system  in  his  recitals,  varied  as 


A   NOTABLE   QUARTETTE  289 

many  of  them  are.  As  to  his  voice,  it  is  of  superb 
timbre. 

Another  characteristic  noted  was  that  the  buntings 
do  not  throw  back  their  heads  while  siriging,  after  the 
manner  of  the  sparrows,  but  stretch  their  necks  forward, 
and  at  no  time  do  they  open  their  mouths  widely. 
As  a  rule,  or  at  least  very  often,  when  flying,  they 
do  not  begin  their  songs  until  they  have  almost 
reached  the  apex  of  their  triangle;  then  the  song 
begins,  and  it  continues  over  the  angle  and  down  the 
incline  until  another  perch  is  settled  upon.  What 
Lowell  says  of  "  bobolinkum  "  is  just  as  true  of  bunting 
—  "  He  runs  down,  a  brook  o'  laughter,  thru  the  air." 
As  the  sun  went  down  behind  the  snow-clad  mountains, 
a  half  dozen  or  more  of  the  buntings  rolled  up  the  full 
tide  of  song,  and  I  left  them  to  their  vespers  and 
trudged  back  to  the  village,  satisfied  with  the  ac- 
quirements of  this  red-letter  day  in  my  ornithologi- 
cal journey. 

However,  one  afternoon's  study  of  such  charming 
birds  was  not  enough  to  satisfy  my  curiosity,  for  no 
females  had  been  seen  and  no  nests  discovered.  About 
ten  days  later,  more  attention  was  given  them.  In  a 
meadow  not  far  from  the  hamlet  of  Arvada,  between 
Denver  and  the  mountains,  I  found  a  colony  of 
buntings  one  morning,  swinging  in  the  air  and  furnishing 
their  full  quota  of  the  matutinal  concert,  in  which  many 

19 


290  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

other  birds  had  a  leading  part,  among  them  being 
western  meadow-larks,  western  robins,  Bullock's  ori- 
oles, American  and  Arkansas  goldfinches,  mountain 
song-sparrows,  lazuli  finches,  spurred  towhees,  black- 
headed  grosbeaks,  summer  warblers,  western  Maryland 
yellow-throats,  and  Townsend's  solitaires.  It  has  sel- 
dom been  my  fortune  to  listen  to  a  finer  pot-pourri 
of  avian  music. 

At  first  only  male  buntings  were  seen.  Surely,  I 
thought,  there  must  be  females  in  the  neighborhood, 
for  when  male  birds  are  singing  so  lustily  about  a  place, 
their  spouses  are  usually  sitting  quietly  on  nests  some- 
where in  bush  or  tree  or  grass.  I  hunted  long  for  a 
nest,  trudging  about  over  the  meadow,  examining 
many  a  grass-tuft  and  weed-clump,  hoping  to  flush  a 
female  and  discover  her  secret ;  but  my  quest  was  vain. 
It  is  strange  how  difficult  it  is  to  find  nests  in  Colorado, 
either  on  the  plains  or  in  the  mountains.  The  birds 
seem  to  be  adepts  in  the  fine  arts  of  concealment  and 
secret-keeping.  Presently  several  females  were  seen 
flying  off  over  the  fields  and  returning,  obviously  to 
feed  their  young.  There  was  now  some  colorable  pros- 
pect of  finding  a  nest.  A  mother  bird  appeared  with  a 
worm  in  her  bill,  and  you  may  rely  upon  it  I  did  not 
permit  her  to  slip  from  my  sight  until  I  saw  her  drop 
to  the  ground,  hop  about  stealthily  for  a  few  moments, 
then  disappear,  and  presently  fly  up  minus  the  worm. 


A   NOTABLE   QUARTETTE  291 

Scarcely  daring  to  breathe,  I  followed  a  direct  course 
to  the  weed-clump  from  which  she  had  risen.  And 
there  was  a  nest,  sure  enough  —  my  first  lark  bunting's 
—  set  in  a  shallow  pit  of  the  ground,  prettily  concealed 
and  partly  roofed  over  by  the  flat  and  spreading  weed- 
stalk.  Four  half-fledged  youngsters  lay  panting  in  the 
little  cradle,  the  day  being  very  warm.  I  lifted  one  of 
them  from  the  nest,  and  held  it  in  my  hand  for  a 
minute  or  two,  and  even  touched  it  with  my  lips, 
my  first  view  of  lark-bunting  babies  being  something  of 
an  event  —  I  had  almost  said  an  epoch  —  in  my  experi- 
ence. Replacing  the  youngster  in  its  crib,  I  stepped  back 
a  short  distance  and  watched  the  mother  bird  returning 
with  another  mouthful  of  "  goodies,"'  and  feeding  her 
bantlings  four.  She  was  not  very  shy,  and  simply 
uttered  a  fine  chirp  when  I  went  too  close  to  her  nest- 
lings, while  her  gallant  consort  did  not  even  chirp,  but 
tried  to  divert  my  attention  by  repeatedly  curveting  in 
the  air  and  singing  his  choicest  measures.  This  was 
the  only  bunting's  nest  I  found,  although  I  made 
long  and  diligent  search  for  others,  as  you  may  well 
believe  when  I  state  that  a  half  day  was  spent  in  gath- 
ering the  facts  recorded  in  the  last  two  paragraphs. 

In  the  afternoon  I  watched  a  female  in  another  field 
for  a  long  time,  but  she  was  too  wary  to  betray  her 
secret.  In  this  case  the  male,  instead  of  beguiling 
me  with  song,  flitted  about  and  mingled  his  fine  chirps 


292  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

with  those  of  his  anxious  mate.  On  my  way  across  the 
plains,  some  two  weeks  later,  I  discovered  that  the  lark 
buntings  do  not  dwell  only  in  well-watered  meadows, 
but  also  in  the  most  arid  localities.  Still,  I  am 
inclined  to  think  they  do  not  build  their  nests  far 
from  refreshing  streams.  When  the  breeding  season  is 
over,  they  range  far  and  wide  over  the  plains  in  search 
of  insects  that  are  to  their  taste.  From  the  car 
window  many  of  them  were  observed  all  along  the 
way  to  a  distance  of  over  sixty  miles  east  of  Denver. 
At  that  time  the  males,  females,  and  young  were  mov- 
ing from  place  to  place,  mostly  in  scattering  flocks,  the 
breeding  season  being  past.  A  problem  that  puzzled 
me  a  little  was  where  they  obtain  water  for  drinking 
and  bathing  purposes,  but  no  doubt  such  blithe  and 
active  birds  are  able  to  "look   out  for  number  one.'"* 

The  second  member  of  our  lyrical  quartette  is  the 
elegant  green-tailed  towhee,  known  scientifically  as 
Pipilo  chlorurus.  The  pretty  green-tails  are  quite  wary 
about  divulging  their  domestic  secrets,  and  for  a  time 
I  was  almost  in  despair  of  finding  even  one  of  their 
nests.  In  vain  I  explored  with  exhausting  toil  many  a 
steep  mountain  side,  examining  every  bush  and  beating 
every  copse  within  a  radius  of  many  rods. 

My  purpose  was  to  flush  the  female  from  her  nest, 
a  plan  that  succeeds  with  many  birds ;  but  in  this 
instance  I  was  disappointed.     It  is  possible  that,  when 


A   NOTABLE   QUARTETTE  293 

an  intruder  appears  in  their  nesting  haunts,  the  males, 
which  are  ever  on  the  lookout,  call  their  spouses  from 
the  nests,  and  then  "  snap  their  fingers,""  so  to  speak, 
at  the  puzzled  searcher. 

However,  by  watching  the  mother  birds  carrying 
worms  in  their  bills  I  succeeded  in  finding  two  nests. 
The  first  was  at  Breckenridge,  and,  curiously  enough, 
in  a  vacant  lot  at  the  border  of  the  town,  not  on  a 
steep  slope,  but  on  a  level  spot  near  the  bank  of  Blue 
River.  The  mother  bird  had  slyly  crept  to  her  nest 
while  I  watched,  and  remained  firmly  seated  until  I  bent 
directly  over  her,  when  she  fluttered  away,  trailing  a 
few  feet  to  draw  my  attention  to  herself.  It  was  a  cosey 
nest  site  —  in  a  low,  thick  bush,  beneath  a  rusty  but 
well-preserved  piece  of  sheet-iron  which  made  a  slant 
roof  over  the  cradle.  It  contained  three  callow  bant- 
lings, which  innocently  opened  their  carmine-lined 
mouths  when  I  stirred  the  leaves  above  them.  It 
seemed  to  be  an  odd  location  for  the  nest  of  a  bird 
that  had  always  appeared  so  wild  and  shy.  The  alti- 
tude of  the  place  is  nine  thousand  five  hundred  and 
twenty  feet. 

My  second  green-tail's  nest  was  in  South  Platte 
Caiion,  near  a  station  called  Chaseville,  its  elevation 
being  about  eight  thousand  five  hundred  feet.  I  was 
walking  along  the  dusty  wagon  road  winding  about  the 
base  of  the  mountain,  when  a  little  bird  with  a  worm 


294  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

in  her  bill  flitted  up  the  steep  bank  a  short  distance 
and  disappeared  among  the  bushes.  The  tidbit  in 
her  bill  gave  me  a  clew  to  the  situation  ;  so  I  scrambled 
up  the  steep  place,  and  presently  espied  a  nest  in  a 
bush,  about  a  foot  and  a  half  from  the  ground.  As 
had  been  anticipated,  it  turned  out  to  be  a  green-tailed 
towhee's  domicile,  as  was  proved  by  the  presence  and 
uneasy  chirping  of  a  pair  of  those  birds.  While  the 
nest  at  Breckenridge  was  set  on  the  ground,  this  one 
was  placed  on  the  twigs  of  thick  bushes,  showing  that 
these  birds,  like  their  eastern  relatives,  are  fond  of 
diversity  in  selecting  nesting  places. 

This  nest  contained  four  bantlings,  already  well 
fledged.  My  notes  say  that  their  mouths  were  yellow- 
lined,  and  that  the  fleshy  growths  at  the  corners  of 
their  bills  were  yellow.  Does  the  lining  of  the  juvenile 
green-tail's  mouth  change  from  red  to  yellow  as  he 
advances  in  age  ?  My  notes  certainly  declare  that  the 
nestlings  at  Breckenridge  had  carmine-lined  mouths. 
For  the  present  I  cannot  settle  the  question  either 
affirmatively  or  negatively. 

Here  I  perpetrated  a  trick  which  I  have  ever  since 
regretted.  The  temptation  to  hold  a  baby  green-tail 
in  m^  hand  and  examine  it  closely  was  so  strong  that, 
as  carefully  as  I  could,  I  drew  one  from  its  grassy  crib 
and  held  it  in  my  palm,  noting  the  green  tinting 
already  beginning  to  show  on  its  wings  and  back.     Its 


A   NOTABLE   QUARTETTE  295 

tail  was  still  too  stubby  to  display  the  ornamentation 
that  gives  the  species  its  popular  name.  So  much  was 
learned,  but  at  the  expense  of  the  little  family's  peace 
of  mind.  As  I  held  the  bantling  in  my  hand,  the 
frightened  mamma  uttered  a  series  of  pitiful  calls  that 
were  new  to  my  ears,  consisting  of  two  notes  in  a  low, 
complaining  tone ;  it  was  more  of  an  entreaty  than  a 
protest.  Afterwards  I  heard  the  green -tails  also  give 
voice  to  a  fine  chirp  almost  like  that  of  a  chipping 
sparrow. 

The  mother''s  call  seemed  to  strike  terror  to  the 
hearts  of  her  infant  brood,  for,  as  I  attempted  to  put 
the  baby  back  into  its  crib,  all  four  youngsters  set  up 
a  loud  to-do,  and  sprang,  panic  stricken,  over  the  rim, 
tumbling,  fluttering,  and  falling  through  the  network 
of  twigs  to  the  ground,  a  couple  of  them  rolling  a  few 
feet  down  the  dusty  bank.  Again  and  again  I  caught 
them  and  put  tliem  back  into  the  nest,  but  they  would 
not  remain  there,  so  I  was  compelled  to  leave  them 
scrambling  about  among  the  bushes  and  rocks.  I  felt 
like  a  buccaneer,  a  veritable  Captain  Kidd.  My  sincere 
hope  is  that  none  of  the  birdkins  came  to  grief  on  ac- 
count of  their  premature  flight  from  the  nest.  The 
next  morning  old  and  young  were  chirping  about  the 
place  as  I  passed,  and  I  hurried  away,  feeling  sad 
that  science  and  sentiment  must  sometimes  come  into 
conflict. 


296  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

One  day  in  the  latter  part  of  June,  as  I  was  climbing 
the  steep  side  of  a  mesa  in  the  neighborhood  of  Golden, 
my  ear  was  greeted  by  a  new  style  of  bird  music,  which 
came  lilting  sweetly  down  to  me  from  the  height.  It 
had  a  kind  of  wild,  challenging  ring  about  it,  as  if  the 
singer  were  daring  me  to  venture  upon  his  demesne  at 
my  peril.  A  hard  climb  brought  me  at  length  within 
range  of  the  little  performer,  who  was  blowing  his 
Huon's  horn  from  the  pointed  top  of  a  large  stone  on 
the  mesa's  side.  My  field-glass  was  soon  fixed  upon 
him,  revealing  a  little  bird  with  a  long  beak,  decurved 
at  the  end,  a  grayish-brown  coat  quite  thickly  barred 
and  mottled  on  the  wings  and  tail,  and  a  vest  of  warm 
white  finely  sprinkled  with  a  dusky  gray.  A  queer, 
shy,  timid  little  thing  he  was.  Afterwards  I  met  him 
often,  but  never  succeeded  in  gaining  his  confidence  or 
winning  a  single  concession  from  him.  He  was  the  rock 
wren  (Salpinctes  ohwletus)  —  a  species  that  is  unknown 
east  of  the  Great  Plains,  one  well  deserving  a  place  in 
literature. 

I  was  especially  impressed  with  his  peculiar  style  of 
minstrelsy,  so  different  from  anything  I  had  ever  heard 
in  the  bird  realm.  While  the  song  was  characterized 
by  much  variety,  it  usually  opened  with  two  or  three 
loud,  clear  syllables,  somewhat  prolonged,  sounding,  as 
has  been  said,  like  a  challenge,  followed  by  a  peculiar 
bubbling  trill  that  seemed  fairly  to  roll  from  the  piper's 


A   NOTABLE   QUARTETTE  297 

tongue.  Early  one  morning  a  few  days  later  I  heard  a 
brilliant  vocalist  descanting  from  the  top  of  a  pump  in 
a  wide  field  among  the  foothills.  How  wildly  his  tones 
rang  out  on  the  crisp  morning  air !  I  seemed  to  be 
suddenly  transported  to  another  part  of  the  world,  his 
style  of  music  was  so  new,  so  foreign  to  my  ear.  My 
pencilled  notes  say  of  this  particular  minstrel :  "  Very 
musical  —  great  variety  of  notes  —  clear,  loud,  ringing 
—  several  runs  slightly  like  Carolina's  —  others  suggest 
Bewick's  —  but  most  of  them  sici  generis.'''' 

Let  us  return  to  the  first  rock  wren  I  saw.  He  was 
exceedingly  shy,  scurrying  off  to  a  more  distant  perch  — 
another  stone  —  as  I  approached.  Sometimes  he  would 
run  down  among  the  bushes  and  rocks  like  a  mouse, 
then  glide  to  the  top  of  another  stone,  and  fling  his  pert 
little  aria  at  the  intruder.  It  was  interesting  to  note 
that  he  most  frequently  selected  for  a  singing  perch  the 
top  of  a  high,  pointed  rock  where  he  could  command  a 
view  of  his  surroundings  and  pipe  a  note  of  warning  to 
his  mate  at  the  approach  of  a  supposed  enemy.  Almost 
every  conspicuous  rock  on  the  acclivity  bore  evidence  of 
having  been  used  as  a  lookout  by  the  little  sentinel. 

This  wren  is  well  named,  for  his  home  is  among  the 
rocks,  in  the  crannies  and  niches  of  which  his  mate 
hides  her  nest  so  effectually  that  you  must  look  long  for 
it,  and  even  after  the  most  painstaking  search  you  may 
not  be  able  to  find  it.     The  little  husband  helps  to  lead 


298  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

you  astray.  He  will  leap  upon  a  rock  and  send  forth 
his  bell-like  peal,  as  if  he  were  saying,  "Right  here, 
right  here,  here  is  our  nest !  "  but  when  you  go  to  the 
spot,  he  flits  off  to  another  rock  and  sounds  the  same 
challenge.  And  so  you  can  form  no  idea  of  the  nest 
site.  My  nearest  approach  to  finding  a  nest  was  among 
the  rocks  and  cliffs  on  the  summit  of  a  mountain  a  few 
miles  from  Golden,  where  an  adult  bird  was  seen  to  feed 
a  youngster  that  had  already  flown  from  the  nursery. 
It  was  interesting  to  know  that  the  rock  wrens  breed  at 
so  high  an  altitude.  However,  they  are  not  an  alpine 
species,  none  having  been  seen  by  the  writer  over  eight 
thousand  feet  above  sea-level,  although  they  have  been 
known  to  ascend  to  an  altitude  of  twelve  thousand  feet. 
The  fourth  member  of  our  feathered  quartette  was 
the  oddest  of  all.  On  the  thirtieth  of  June  my  com- 
panion and  I  were  riding  slowly  down  the  mountain 
side  a  few  miles  below  Gray's  Peak,  which  we  had  scaled 
two  days  before.  My  ear  was  struck  by  a  flicker's  call 
above  us,  so  I  dismounted  from  my  burro,  and  began  to 
clamber  up  the  hillside.  Presently  I  heard  a  song  that 
seemed  one  moment  to  be  near  at  hand,  the  next  far 
away,  now  to  the  right,  now  to  the  left,  and  anon 
directly  above  me.  To  my  ear  it  was  a  new  kind  of 
bird  minstrelsy.  I  climbed  higher  and  higher,  and  yet 
the  song  seemed  to  be  no  nearer.  It  had  a  grosbeak- 
like quality,  I  fancied,  and  I  hoped  to  find  either  the 


A   NOTABLE   QUARTETTE  299 

pine  or  the  evening  grosbeak,  for  both  of  which  I  had 
been  making  anxious  search.  The  shifting  of  the  song 
from  point  to  point  struck  me  as  odd,  and  it  was  very 
mystifying. 

Higher  and  higher  I  climbed,  the  mountain  side  being 
so  steep  that  my  breath  came  in  gasps,  and  I  was  often 
compelled  to  throw  myself  on  the  ground  to  recover 
strength.  At  length  a  bird  darted  out  from  the  pines 
several  hundred  feet  above  me,  rose  high  into  the  air, 
circled  and  swung  this  way  and  that  for  a  long  time, 
breaking  at  intervals  into  a  song  which  sifted  down  to 
me  faintly  through  the  blue  distance.  How  long  it 
remained  on  the  wing  I  do  not  know,  but  it  was  too 
long  for  my  eyes  to  endure  the  strain  of  watching  it. 
Through  my  glass  a  large  part  of  the  wings  showed 
white  or  yellowish- white,  and  seemed  to  be  almost  trans- 
lucent in  the  blaze  of  the  sunlight.  What  could  this 
wonderful  haunter  of  the  sky  be  ?  It  was  scarcely  pos- 
sible that  so  roly-poly  a  bird  as  a  grosbeak  could  perform 
so  marvellous  an  exploit  on  the  wing. 

I  never  worked  harder  to  earn  my  salary  than  I  did 
to  climb  that  steep  and  rugged  mountain  side ;  but  at 
last  I  reached  and  penetrated  the  zone  of  pines,  and 
finally,  in  an  area  covered  with  dead  timber,  standing 
and  fallen,  two  feathered  strangers  sprang  in  sight,  now 
flitting  among  the  lower  branches  and  now  sweeping  to 
the  ground.     They  were  not  grosbeaks,  that  was  sure  ; 


300  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

their  bills  were  quite  slender,  their  bodies  lithe  and 
graceful,  and  their  tails  of  well-proportioned  length. 
Save  in  color,  they  presented  a  decidedly  thrush-like 
appearance,  and  their  manners  were  also  thrush-like. 

Indeed,  the  colors  and  markings  puzzled  me  not  a 
little.  The  upper  parts  were  brownish-gray  of  various 
shades,  the  wings  and  tail  for  the  most  part  dusky,  the 
wing-coverts,  tertials,  and  some  of  the  quills  bordered 
and  tipped  with  white,  also  the  tail.  The  white  of  both 
wings  and  tail  became  quite  conspicuous  when  they  were 
spread.  This  was  the  feathered  conundrum  that  flitted 
about  before  me.  The  birds  were  about  the  size  of  the 
hermit  thrushes,  but  lither  and  suppler.  They  ambled 
about  gi'acefully,  and  did  not  seem  to  be  very  shy,  and 
presently  one  of  them  broke  into  a  song  —  the  song  that 
I  had  previously  heard,  only  it  was  loud  and  ringing  and 
well  articulated,  now  that  I  was  near  the  singer.  Again 
and  again  they  lifted  their  rich  voices  in  song.  When 
they  wandered  a  little  distance  from  each  other,  they 
called  in  affectionate  tones,  giving  their  "  All 's  well."" 

Then  one  of  them,  no  doubt  the  male,  darted  from  a 
pine  branch  obliquely  into  the  air,  and  mounted  up  and 
up  and  up,  in  a  series  of  graceful  leaps,  until  he  was 
a  mere  speck  against  the  blue  dome,  gyrating  to  and 
fro  in  zigzag  lines,  or  wheeling  in  graceful  circles,  his 
song  dribbling  faintly  down  to  me  at  frequent  intervals. 
A  thing  of  buoyancy  and  grace,  more  angel  than  bird. 


A   NOTABLE   QUARTETTE  301 

that  wonderful  winged  creature  floated  about  in  the 
cerulean  sky ;  how  long  I  do  not  know,  whether  five 
minutes,  or  ten,  or  twenty,  but  so  long  that  at  last  I 
flung  myself  upon  my  back  and  watched  him  until  my 
eyes  ached.  He  kept  his  wings  in  constant  motion,  the 
white  portions  making  them  appear  filmy  as  the  sun 
shone  upon  them.  Suddenly  he  bent  his  head,  partly 
folded  his  wings,  and  swept  down  almost  vertically  like 
an  arrow,  alighting  safe  somewhere  among  the  pines. 
I  have  seen  other  birds  performing  aerial  evolutions 
accompanied  with  song,  but  have  never  known  one  to 
continue  so  long  on  the  wing. 

What  w^as  this  wonderful  bird  ?  It  was  Townsend's 
solitaire  {Myadestes  townsendn)  — a  bird  which  is  pecu- 
liar to  the  West,  especially  to  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
and  which  belongs  to  the  same  family  as  the  thrushes 
and  bluebirds.  No  literature  in  my  possession  contains 
any  reference  to  this  bird's  astonishing  aerial  flight  and 
song,  and  I  cannot  help  wondering  whether  other  bird- 
students  have  witnessed  the  interesting  exploit. 

Subsequently  I  found  a  pair  of  solitaires  on  the 
plains  near  Arvada.  The  male  was  a  powerful  singer. 
Many  of  his  outbursts  were  worthy  of  the  mocking-bird, 
to  some  of  whose  runs  they  bore  a  close  resemblance. 
He  sang  almost  incessantly  during  the  half  day  I  spent 
in  the  neighborhood,  my  presence  seeming  to  inspire 
him  to  the  most  prodigious  lyrical  efforts  of  which  he 


302  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

was  master.  Sometimes  he  would  sit  on  the  top  of  a 
bush  or  a  fence-post,  but  his  favorite  perches  were  sev- 
eral ridges  of  sand  and  gravel.  His  flight  was  the 
picture  of  grace,  and  he  had  a  habit  of  lifting  his 
wings,  now  one,  now  the  other,  and  often  both,  after 
the  manner  of  the  mocking-bird  on  a  chimney-top.  He 
and  his  mate  did  not  utter  a  chirp,  but  made  a  great 
to-do  by  singing,  and  finally  I  discovered  that  all  the 
fuss  was  not  about  a  nest,  but  about  a  hulking  young- 
ster that  had  outgrown  his  kilts  and  looked  very  like  a 
brown  thrasher.  Neither  of  this  second  pair  of  soli- 
taires performed  any  evolutions  in  the  upper  air ;  nor 
did  another  pair  that  I  found  far  up  a  snow-clad  moun- 
tain near  Breckenridge,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Conti- 
nental Divide. 

The  scientific  status  of  this  unique  bird  is  interesting. 
He  is  a  species  of  the  genus  Myadestes^  which  belongs 
to  the  family  Turdidce^  including  the  thrushes,  stone- 
chats,  and  bluebirds,  as  well  as  the  solitaires.  He  is 
therefore  not  a  thrush,  but  is  closely  related  to  the 
genus  Turdus^  occupying  the  same  relative  position  in 
the  avi-faunal  system.  According  to  Doctor  Coues  the 
genus  includes  about  twenty  species,  only  one  of  which 
—  the  one  just  described  —  is  native  to  the  United 
States,  the  rest  being  found  in  the  West  Indies  and 
Central  and  South  America.  Formerly  the  solitaires 
comprised  a  subfamily  among  the  chatterers,  but  a  later 


Plate  VIII 

Brown-capped  Leucosticte  —  Leucosiicle  auslralis 
(Lower  figure,  male ;  upper,  female) 


A   NOTABLE   QUARTETTE  303 

and  more  scientific  classification  places  then  in  a  genus 
under  the  head  of  Turdidw. 

The  range  of  Townsend's  solitaire  is  from  the  plains 
of  Colorado  to  the  Pacific  coast  and  north  to  British 
Columbia.  According  to  Robert  Ridgway,  he  has  even 
been  met  with  "casually""  in  Illinois.  In  Colorado 
many  of  the  solitaires  are  permanent  residents  in  the 
mountains,  remaining  there  throughout  the  winter. 
Some  of  them,  however,  visit  the  plains  during  the 
fall,  winter,  and  spring.  In  the  winter  they  may  be 
found  from  the  lower  valleys  to  an  elevation  of  ten 
thousand  feet,  while  they  are  known  to  breed  as  high  as 
twelve  thousand  feet.  The  nests  are  placed  on  the 
ground  among  rocks,  fallen  branches  and  logs,  and  are 
loosely  constructed  of  sticks  and  grass.  From  three  to 
six  eggs  compose  a  set,  the  ground  color  being  white, 
speckled  with  reddish  brown.  Doctor  Coues  says  the 
birds  feed  on  insects  and  berries,  and  are  "  capable  of 
musical  expression  in  an  exalted  degree."  With  this 
verdict  the  writer  is  in  full  accord. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS 

THE  following  list  includes  all  the  species  and  vari- 
eties, so  far  as  known  to  naturalists,  occurring  in 
the  State  of  Colorado.  Of  course,  these  birds  as 
families  are  not  restricted  to  that  State,  and  therefore  the 
catalogue  comprehends  many  of  the  species  to  be  found 
in  adjacent  and  even  more  remote  parts  of  the  country. 
Aside  from  the  author's  own  observations,  he  is  indebted 
for  a  large  part  of  the  matter  comprised  in  this  list  to 
Professor  Wells  W.  Cooke's  pamphlet,  entitled,  "The  Birds 
of  Colorado,"  with  the  several  appendixes,  and  to  the 
invaluable  manuals  of  Mr.   Ridgway  and  Dr.  Coues. 

According  to  the  latest  information  accessible  to  the 
writer,  389  species  and  varieties  occur  in  Colorado,  of 
which  243  are  known  to  breed.  This  is  a  superb  record, 
and  is  excelled  by  only  two  other  States  in  the  Union, 
namely,  Texas  and  California.  Colorado's  splendid  list  is 
to  be  explained  on  the  ground  of  its  wonderful  variety  of 
climate,  altitude,  soil,  and  topographical  features,  such  as 
its  plains,  foothills,  lower  mountains,  and  towering  peaks 
and  ranges,  bringing  within  its  boundaries  many  eastern, 
boreal,  middle  western,  and  far  western  forms. 

The  author's  preference  would  have  been  to  begin  the 
roll  with  the  most  interesting  birds,  those  to  which  he 
gave  the  largest  share  of  his  attention,  namely,  the  oscines, 

307 


308  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

but  he  has  decided  to  follow  the  order  and  nomenclature 
of  the  Check-List  of  North  American  birds  as  arranged  by 
the  American  Ornithologists'  Union.  In  deference  to  the 
general  reader,  however,  he  has  placed  the  English  name 
of  each  bird  first,  then  the  scientific  designation.  The 
numbers  correspond  to  the  American  Check-List.  By 
noting  those  omitted,  the  reader  will  readily  discover  what 
species  have  not  been  found  in  Colorado. 

1.  "Western  grebe.  tEchmophorus  occidentalis.  Rare 
migrant ;  western  species,  chiefly  interior  regions  of  North 
America. 

2.  HolboeH's  grebe.  Colvmbus  holboellii.  Rare  mi- 
grant ;  breeds  far  north  ;  range,  all  of  North  America. 

3.  Horned  grebe.  Colymbus  auritus.  Rare  migrant ; 
range,  almost  the  same  as  the  last. 

4.  American  eared  grebe.  Colymbus  nigricollis  cali- 
FORNicus.  Summer  resident;  rare  in  eastern,  common  in 
western  Colorado ;  breeds  from  plains  to  8,000  feet ;  par- 
tial to  alkali  lakes  ;  western  species. 

6.  Pied-billed  grebe.  Podilymbus  podic-eps.  Summer 
resident,  rare ;  common  in  migration ;  breeds  in  northern 
part  of  State  ;  sometimes  winters  in  southern  part. 

7.  Loon.  Gavia  imber.  Migrant;  occasionally  winter 
resident ;  not  known  to  breed  in  State. 

8.  Yellow-billed  loon.  Gavia  adamsii.  Migrant ;  rare 
or  accidental. 

9.  Black-throated  loon.  Gavia  arctica.  Rare  fall 
and  winter  visitant. 

37.  Parasitic  jaeger.  STercorarius  parasiticus.  Fall 
and  winter  resident ;  rare. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       309 

40.  Kittiwake.  Rissa  tridactyla.  Rare  or  accidental 
in  winter. 

49.  "Western  gull.  Larus  occidentalis.  Pacific  Coast 
bird ;  accidental  in  Colorado ;  only  one  record. 

51a.  American  herring  gull.  Larus  argentatus  smith- 
soNiANus.  Rare  migrant;  range,  the  whole  of  North 
America. 

53.  California  gull.  Larus  californicus.  Western 
species ;  breeds  abundantly  in  Utah ;  only  three  records 
for  Colorado. 

54.  Ring-billed  gull.  Larus  delawarensis.  Not  un- 
common summer  resident ;  common  in  migration ;  breeds 
as  high  as  7,500  feet ;  range,  whole  of  North  America. 

58.  Laughing  gull.  Larus  atricilla.  Bird  of  South 
Atlantic  and  Gulf  States ;  once  accidental  in  Colorado. 

59.  Franklin's  gull.  Larus  franklinii.  Rare  migrant ; 
range,  interior  of  North  America. 

60.  Bonaparte's  gull.  Larus  Philadelphia.  Rare  mi- 
grant ;  not  uncommon  in  a  few  localities ;  range,  whole  of 
North  America. 

62.  Sabine's  gull.  Xema  sabinii.  Rare  winter  visi- 
tant; breeds  in  the  arctic  regions. 

69.  Forster's  tern.  Sterna  forsteri.  Rare  summer 
resident;  common  migrant;  habitat,  temperate  North 
America. 

71.  Arctic  tern.  Sterna  PARAoiSiEA.  Very  rare  migrant ; 
but  two  records ;    breeding  habitat,  circumpolar  regions. 

77.  Black  tern.  Hydrochelidon  nigra  surinamensis. 
Common  summer  resident ;  both  sides  of  range ;  habitat, 
temperate  North  America ;  in  winter  south  as  far  as  Brazil 
and  Chili. 


310  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

120.  Double-crested  cormorant.  Phalacrocorax  dilo- 
PHus.  Perhaps  breeds  in  Colorado,  as  it  breeds  abundantly 
in  Utah ;  all  present  records  from  eastern  foothills. 

125.  American  white  pelican.  Pelecanus  erythro- 
RHYNCHOS.  Once  a  common  migrant ;  a  few  remained  to 
breed ;  now  rare  ;  still  noted  on  both  sides  of  the  range. 

129.  American  merganser.  Merganser  americanus. 
Resident ;  common  migrant  and  winter  sojourner ;  a  few 
breed  in  mountains  and  parks ;  generally  distributed  in 
North  America. 

130.  Red-breasted  merganser.  Merganser  serrator. 
Rare  winter  sojourner;  common  migrant;  breeds  far 
north. 

131.  Hooded  merganser.  Lophodytes  cucullatus. 
Rare  resident  both  summer  and  winter ;  breeds  in  east- 
ern part  and  in  the  mountains ;  general  range,  North 
America. 

132.  Mallard.  Anas  boschas.  Very  common  in  mi- 
gration ;  common  in  winter ;  breeds  below  9,000  feet,  on 
plains  as  well  as  in  mountains ;  general  range,  whole 
northern  hemisphere. 

134a.  Mottled  duck.  Anas  fulvigula  maculosa.  Rare 
migrant ;  an  eastern  species,  sometimes  wandering  west  to 
plains. 

135.  Gadwall.  Chaulelasmus  streperus.  Summer  resi- 
dent ;  common  in  migration  ;  breeds  on  plains  ;  also  in 
sloughs  and  small  lakes  at  an  elevation  of  11,000  feet  in 
southern  part  of  State ;  breeds  abundantly  at  San  Luis 
Lakes. 

137.  Baldpate.  Mareca  Americana.  Summer  resi- 
dent ;  breeds  from  plains  to  8,000  feet. 


CHECK-LIST  OF  COLORADO   BIRDS       311 

139.  Green -winged  teal.  Nettion  carolinensis.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  abundant  in  migration  ;  a  few  breed 
on  the  plains  ;  more  in  mountains  and  upper  parks. 

140.  Blue-winged  teal.  Querquedula  discors.  Same 
records  as  preceding. 

141.  Cinnamon  teal.  Querquedula  cyanoptera.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  breeds  both  east  and  west  of  the 
range  ;  a  western  species  ;  in  winter  south  to  Chili,  Argen- 
tina, and  Falkland  Islands ;  sometimes  strays  east  as  far  as 
Illinois  and  Louisiana. 

142.  Shoveller.  Spatula  clypeata.  Summer  resident ; 
abundant  in  migration ;  breeds  in  suitable  localities,  but 
prefers  mountain  parks  8,000  feet  in  altitude ;  breeds 
throughout  its  range,  which  is  the  whole  of  North 
America. 

143.  Pintail.  Dafila  acuta.  Rare  summer  and  win- 
ter resident ;  common  migrant ;  mostly  breeds  in  the 
North. 

144.  "Wood  duck.     Aix  sponsa.     Rare  summer  resident. 

146.  Redhead.  Aythya  Americana.  Common  mi- 
grant ;  breeds  far  north ;  migrates  early  in  spring. 

147.  Canvas-back.  Aythya  vallisneria.  Migrant;  not 
common  ;  breeds  far  north. 

148.  Scaup  duck.  Aythya  marila.  Rare  migrant; 
both  sides  of  the  range ;  breeds  far  north. 

149.  Lesser  scaup  duck.  Aythya  affinis.  Migrant; 
not  common  ;  a  little  more  common  than  preceding. 

150.  Ring-necked  duck.  Aythya  collaris.  Rare  mi- 
grant, though  common  in  Kansas ;  breeds  in  far  North. 

151.  American  golden-eye.  Clangula  clangula  Ameri- 
cana.    Rare  migrant ;  breeds  far  north. 


312  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

152.  Barrow's  golden-eye.  Clangula  islandica.  Sum- 
mer and  winter  resident ;  a  northern  species,  but  breeds 
in  mountains  of  Colorado,  sometimes  as  high  as  10,000 
feet ;  rare  on  plains. 

153.  Bufile-head.  Charitonetta  albeola.  Common 
migrant  throughout  State  ;  breeds  in  the  North. 

154.  Old  squaw.  Harelda  hyemalis.  Rare  winter 
visitor ;  a  northern  species. 

155.  Harlequin  duck.  Histrionicus  histrionicus.  Resi- 
dent ;  not  common  ;  a  northern  species,  but  a  few  breed 
in  mountains  at  an  altitude  of  7,000  to  10,000  feet. 

l60.  American  eider.  Somateria  dresseri.  Very  rare  ; 
only  two  records  —  one  somewhat  uncertain. 

l63.  American  scoter.  Oidemia  Americana.  Rare 
winter  visitor ;  northern  bird,  in  winter  principally  along 
the  sea-coast,  but  a  few  visit  the  larger  inland  lakes. 

165.  "White-winged  scoter.  Oidemia  deglandi.  Same 
habits  as  preceding  ;  perhaps  rarer. 

166.  Surf  scoter.  Oidemia  perspicillata.  Same  as 
preceding. 

167.  Ruddy  duck.  Erismatura  jamaicensis.  Common 
summer  resident ;  both  sides  of  the  range ;  breeds  from 
plains  to  10,000  feet;  a  beautiful  bird;  author's  observa- 
tions given  in  Chapter  VII. 

l69-  Lesser  snow  goose.  Chen  hvperborea.  Migrant 
and  winter  resident ;  not  common ;  breeds  far  north. 

l69a.  Greater  snow  goose.  Chen  hvperborea  nivalis 
Rare  migrant ;  only  two  records ;  the  eastern  form,  which 
does  not  come  regularly  as  far  west  as  Colorado. 

17 la.  American  white-fronted  goose.  Anser  albi- 
frons  gambeli.     Rare  migrant ;  breeds  far  northward. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS        S13 

172.  Canada  goose.  Branta  canadensis.  Summer  and 
winter  resident ;  rare,  except  locally ;  common  in  migra- 
tion ;  breeds  about  secluded  lakes  at  10,000  feet. 

I72a.  Hutchins's  goose.  Branta  canadensis  hutch- 
iNsii.  Common  migrant ;  breeds  in  the  North  ;  a  few  may 
winter  in  the  State. 

I72c.  Cackling  goose.  Branta  canadensis  minima. 
One  record;  Pacific  coast  bird;  breeds  in  Alaska. 

173.  Brant.  Branta  bernicla.  Rare  or  accidental 
migrant ;  an  eastern  species  seldom  coming  west ;  breeds 
only  within  the  Arctic  Circle. 

180.  Whistling  swan.  Olor  columbianus.  Migrant; 
not  common ;  formerly  fairly  plentiful ;  breeds  far 
northward. 

181.  Trumpeter  swan.  Olor  buccinator.  Rare  mi- 
grant ;  not  so  common  as  preceding ;  breeds  from  Iowa  and 
Dakota  northward. 

183.  Roseate  spoonbill.  Ajaja  ajaja.  Accidental  ; 
two  instances  ;  habitat,  tropical  and  subtropical  America. 

184.  White  ibis.  Guar  a  alba.  Rare  migrant;  one 
taken  on  plains  ;  habitat,  tropical  and  subtropical  Amer- 
ica, coming  north  as  far  as  Great  Salt  Lake  and  South 
Dakota. 

[185.]  Scarlet  ibis.  Guara  rubra.  Accidental;  one 
specimen  taken;  a  wonderful  record  for  this  tropical 
species. 

186.  Glossy  ibis.  Plegadis  autumnalis.  Accidental; 
two  fine  specimens  taken  in  the  State  ;  this  is  far  out  of 
its  ordinary  tropical  range. 

187.  White-faced  glossy  ibis.  Plegadis  guarauna. 
Summer  visitor  ;  rare  ;  fairly  common  in  New  Mexico  and 


314  BIRDS   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

Arizona ;  sometimes  wanders  into  Colorado ;  Aiken  found 
it  breeding  at  San  Luis  Lakes. 

188.  "Wood  ibis.  Tantalus  loculator.  Rare  sum- 
mer visitor;  southern  range. 

190.  American  bittern.  Botaurus  lentiginosus.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  breeds  throughout  the  State,  from 
plains  to  about  7,000  feet. 

191.  Least  bittern.  Ardetta  exilis.  Rare  summer 
visitor;  a  few  records  east  of  mountains;  one  specimen 
seen  west  of  the  divide. 

194.  Great  blue  heron.  Ardea  herodias.  Summer 
resident ;  common  in  migration ;  seldom  goes  far  up 
in  the  mountains,  though  Mr.  Aiken  found  one  at  an 
altitude  of  9,000  feet. 

196.  American  egret.  Ardea  egretta.  Rare  or  ac- 
cidental ;  one  seen ;  general  range,  the  whole  of  the 
United  States ;  in  winter  south  to  Chili  and  Patagonia. 

197.  Snowy  heron.  Ardea  candidissima.  Summer 
visitor ;  not  known  to  breed ;  the  highest  altitude  is  the 
one  taken  near  Leadville,  10,000  feet. 

198.  Reddish  egret.  Ardea  rufescens.  Rare  or 
accidental ;  only  two  specimens  secured ;  southern 
range. 

202.  Black-crowned  night  heron.  Nycticorax  nycti- 
coRAX  NiEvius.  Summer  resident ;  not  common ;  local ; 
more  plentiful  in  migration. 

203.  Yellow-crowned  night  heron.  Nycticorax  vio- 
laceus.  Rare  summer  visitor ;  southern  species ;  not  known 
to  breed  in  State. 

204.  "Whooping  crane.  Grus  Americana.  Rare  mi- 
grant ;  more  common  east  of  Colorado. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       315 

205.  Little  brown  crane.  Grus  canadensis.  Migrant ; 
few  taken  :  northern  breeder. 

206.  Sandhill  crane.  Grus  mexicana.  Summer  resi- 
dent ;  not  uncommon  locally ;  in  migration  common ; 
breeds  as  high  as  8,000  feet;  has  been  seen  in  autumn 
passing  over  the  highest  peaks. 

212.  Virginia  rail.  Rallus  virginianus.  Summer  resi- 
dent ;  not  uncommon ;  breeds  on  plains  and  in  mountains 
to  at  least  7,500  feet. 

214.  Sora.  Porzana  Carolina.  Common  summer  resi- 
dent ;  breeds  from  plains  to  9^000  feet. 

21 6.  Black  rail.  Porzana  jam aicensis.  Rare  migrant; 
one  specimen  secured. 

219.  Florida  gallinule.  Gallinula  galeata.  Summer 
visitor,  not  known  to  breed. 

221.  American  coot.  Fulica  Americana.  Common 
summer  resident ;  breeds  on  plains  and  in  mountain  parks. 

222.  Red  phalarope.  Crymophilus  fulicarius.  Mi- 
grant ;  rare ;  once  taken  at  Loveland  by  Edw.  A.  Preble, 
July  25,  1895.     Breeds  far  north. 

223.  Northern  phalarope.  Phalaropus  lobatus.  Mi- 
grant ;  not  uncommon ;  breeds  far  northward. 

224.  "Wilson's  phalarope.  Steganopus  tricolor.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  more  common  in  migration  ;  breeds 
below  6,000  feet. 

225.  American  avocet.  Recurvirostra  Americana. 
Common  summer  resident ;  occurs  frequently  on  the 
plains ;  less  frequent  in  mountains. 

226.  Black-necked  stilt.  Himantopus  mexicanus.  Sum- 
mer resident ;  most  common  in  the  mountains,  going  as  high 
as  8,000  feet ;  more  common  west  of  range  than  east. 


316  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

228.  American  w^oodcock.  Philohela  minor.  Rare 
summer  resident ;  Colorado  the  extreme  western  limit  of 
its  range,  going  only  to  foothills. 

230.  "Wilson's  snipe.  Gallinago  delicata.  Rare  sum- 
mer resident ;  common  migrant ;  winter  resident,  rare ; 
found  as  high  as  10,000  feet. 

232.  Long-billed  dowitcher.  Macrorhamphus  scolo- 
paceus.  Somewhat  common  migrant ;  all  records  restricted 
to  plains  ;  breeds  far  northward. 

233.  Stilt  sandpiper.  Michopalama  himantopus.  Rare 
migrant ;  breeds  north  of  United  States. 

239.  Pectoral  sandpiper.  Tringa  maculata.  Com- 
mon migrant ;  occurs  from  the  plains  to  the  great  height 
of  13,000  feet. 

240.  "White-rumped  sandpiper.  Tringa  fuscicollis. 
Not  uncommon  migrant ;  a  bird  of  the  plains,  its  western 
limit  being  the  base  of  the  Rockies ;  breeds  in  the  far 
North. 

241.  Bairds  sandpiper.  Tringa  bairdii.  Abundant 
migrant ;  breeds  far  north ;  returns  in  August  and  ranges 
over  mountains  sometimes  at  height  of  13,000  to  14,000 
feet,  feeding  on  grasshoppers. 

242.  Least  sandpiper.  Tringa  minutilla.  Common 
migrant ;  found  from  plains  to  7,000  feet. 

243a.  Red-backed  sandpiper.  Tringa  alpina  pacifica. 
Rare  migrant ;  only  three  records ;  range,  throughout 
North  America. 

246.  Semipalmated  sandpiper.  Ereunetes  pusillus. 
Common  migrant;  from  the  plains  to  8,000  feet. 

247.  Western  sandpiper.  Ereunetes  occidentalis. 
Rare   migrant ;    breeds   in    the   remote   North ;    western 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       317 

species,  but  in  migration  occurs  regularly  along  the  Atlan- 
tic coast. 

248.  Sanderling.  Calidris  arenaria.  Rare  migrant, 
on  plains ;  range  nearly  cosmopolitan ;  breeds  only  in 
northern  part  of  northern  hemisphere. 

249.  Marbled  godwit.  Limosa  fedoa.  Migrant ;  not 
common ;  a  bird  of  the  plains,  but  seldom  seen ;  occasion- 
ally found  in  the  mountains. 

254.  Greater  yellow-lega.  Totanus  melanoleucus. 
Common  migrant ;  in  favorable  localities  below  8,000 
feet. 

255.  Yellow-leg8.  Totanus  flavipes.  Common  mi- 
grant ;  distribution  same  as  preceding. 

256.  Solitary  sandpiper.  Helodromas  solitarius. 
Summer  resident ;  not  common ;  in  migration,  common ; 
breeds  from  plains  to  10,000  feet. 

258a.  Western  "willet.  Symphemia  semipalmata  inor- 
NATA.  Summer  resident ;  not  common ;  common  mi- 
grant, especially  in  the  fall ;  breeds  from  plains  to  7,000 
feet. 

261.  Bartramian  sandpiper.  Bartramia  longicauda. 
Common  summer  resident ;  abundant  in  migration  ;  a  bird 
of  the  plains  ;  rare  west  of  mountains. 

263.  Spotted  sandpiper.  Actitis  macularia.  Abun- 
dant summer  resident ;  breeds  on  the  plains  and  at  all 
intermediate  altitudes  to  12,000  feet,  even  on  top  of 
mountains  of  that  height,  if  a  lake  or  pond  can  be  found ; 
in  fall,  ranges  above  timber-line  to  1 4,000  feet ;  some  may 
remain  throughout  winter. 

264.  Long-billed  curlew.  Numenius  longirostris. 
Common  summer  resident ;  breeds  on  the  plains ;  also  in 


318  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

Middle  and  South  Parks;  found  on  both  sides  of  the 
range. 

265.  Hudsonian  curle\^.  Numenius  hudsonicus.  Rare 
migrant ;  all  records  thus  far  from  the  plains ;  general 
range.  North  America. 

270.  Black-bellied  plover.  Squatarola  squatarola. 
Migrant,  not  common  ;  bird  of  plains  below  5,000  feet ; 
breeds  far  north. 

272.  American  golden  plover.  Charadrius  dominicus. 
Migrant,  not  common ;  same  record  as  preceding. 

273.  Killdeer.  iEoiALiTis  vocifera.  Abundant  sum- 
mer resident ;  arrives  early  in  spring ;  breeds  most  abun- 
dantly on  plains  and  at  base  of  foothills,  but  is  far  from 
rare  at  an  altitude  of  10,000  feet. 

274.  Semipalmated  plover.  ^gialitis  semipalmata* 
Migrant,  not  common ;  breeds  near  the  Arctic  Circle. 

281.  Mountain  plover.  ^Egialitis  Montana.  Common 
summer  resident ;  in  spite  of  its  name,  a  bird  of  the  plains 
rather  than  the  mountains ;  yet  sometimes  found  in  parks 
at  an  altitude  of  8,000  and  even  9,000  feet.  Its  numbers 
may  be  estimated  from  the  fact  that  in  one  day  of  August 
a  sportsman  shot  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  birds,  though 
why  he  should  indulge  in  such  wholesale  slaughter  the 
author  does  not  understand. 

283.  Turnstone.  Arenaria  interpres.  Rare  migrant ; 
breeding  grounds  in  the  north  ;  cosmopolitan  in  range,  but 
chiefly  along  sea-coasts. 

289.  Bob-white.  Colinus  virginianus.  Resident; 
somewhat  common  locally ;  good  reason  to  believe  that 
all  the  quails  of  the  foothills  are  descendants  of  intro- 
duced birds,  while   those  of  the  eastern  border  of  the 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       319 

plains  are  native.     A  few  were  introduced  some  years  ago 
into  Estes  Park,  and  are  still  occasionally  noticed. 

293.  Scaled  partridge.  Callipepla  squamata.  Resi- 
dent; common  locally;  southern  species,  but  more  com- 
mon than  the  bob-white  at  Rocky  Ford,  Col. 

294.  California  partridge.  Lophortyx  californicus. 
Resident,  local ;  introduced  at  Grand  Junction,  Col.,  and 
have  flourished  so  abundantly  as  to  become  troublesome 
to  gardeners. 

295.  Gambel's  partridge.  Lophortyx  gambelii.  Resi- 
dent, rare ;  known  only  in  southwestern  part  of  the 
State ;  a  western  species. 

297.  Dusky  grouse.  Dendragapus  obscurus.  Resi- 
dent ;  mountain  dwellers ;  breed  from  7,000  feet  to 
timber-line ;  in  September  wander  above  timber-line  to 
12,500  feet,  feeding  on  grasshoppers;  remain  in  thick 
woods  in  winter. 

300b.  Gray  ruffed  grouse.  Bonasa  umbellus  umbel- 
LoiDEs.  Rare  resident ;  a  more  northern  species,  but  a 
few  breed  in  Colorado  just  below  timber-line  ;  winters 
in  higher  foothills. 

304.  White-tailed  ptarmigan.  Lagopus  leucurus.  Com- 
mon resident ;  one  of  the  most  strictly  alpine  species ; 
breeds  entirely  above  timber-line  from  11,500  to  13,500 
feet ;  thence  ranging  to  the  summits  of  the  highest  peaks. 
Only  in  severest  winter  weather  do  they  come  down  to 
timber-line;  rarely  to  8,000  feet.  In  winter  they  are 
white  ;  in  summer  fulvous  or  dull  grayish-buff,  barred  and 
spotted  with  black.  This  bird  is  colloquially  called  the 
"mountain  quail."  The  brown-capped  leucosticte  is  the 
only  other  Colorado  species  that  has  so  high  a  range. 


320  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

305.  Prairie  hen.  Tympanuchus  americanus.  Resi- 
dent ;  uncommon  and  local. 

308b.  Prairie  sharp-tailed  grouse.  Pedkecetes  pha- 
siANELLus  CAMPESTRis.  Resident,  not  common  ;  once  com- 
mon, but  killed  and  driven  out  by  pothunters  ;  some  breed 
in  Middle  Park ;  noted  in  winter  at  9^500  feet. 

309.  Sage  grouse.  Centrocercus  urophasianus.  Com- 
mon resident.  *^  As  its  name  implies,  it  is  an  inhabitant 
of  the  artemisia  or  sage-brush  plains,  and  is  scarcely  found 
elsewhere."     Ranges  from  plains  to  9^500  feet. 

310.  Mexican  turkey.  Meleagris  gallopavo.  Rare 
local  resident ;  southern  part  of  the  State. 

310a.  Wild  turkey.  Meleagris  gallopavo  fera.  Resi- 
dent ;  rare ;  once  abundant,  but  will  probably  soon  be 
exterminated ;  not  certain  whether  Colorado  birds  are 
eastern  or  western  forms. 

312.  Band-tailed  pigeon.  Columba  fasciata.  Summer 
resident ;  local ;  breeds  from  5,000  to  7,000  feet  and 
occasionally  higher. 

316.  Mourning  dove.  Zenaidura  macroura.  Summer 
resident ;  very  abundant ;  breeds  everywhere  below  the 
pine  region  up  to  10,000  feet,  though  usually  a  little 
lower  ;  in  fall  ranges  up  to  12,000  feet. 

319.  "White-winged  dove.  Melopelia  leucoptera. 
Four  records  of  this  straggler  in  Colorado ;  its  usual 
range  is  subtropical,  though  not  uncommon  as  far  north  as 
the  southern  border  of  the  United  States. 

325.  Turkey  vulture.  Cathartes  aura.  -  Common 
summer  resident ;  breeds  from  plains  to  10,000  and  even 
12,000  feet. 

327.    Swallo-w-tailed  kite.    Elanoides  forficatus.  Sum- 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       321 

mer  visitor  ;   rare  or  accidental ;    bird   of  the   plains,  not 
regularly  west  of  central  Kansas. 

329.  Mississippi  kite.  Ictinia  mississippiensis.  Acci- 
dental ;  two  records ;  a  bird  of  eastern  and  southern 
United  States,  and  southward. 

331.  Marsh  hawk.  Circus  hudsonius.  Common  resi- 
dent ;  most  common  in  migration  ;  a  few  remain  through- 
out winter  ;  breeds  on  plains,  and  in  mountains  to  10,000 
feet;  in  fall  may  be  seen  at  14,000  feet. 

332.  Sharp-shinned  hawk.  Accipiter  velox.  Com- 
mon resident ;  much  more  common  in  mountains  than 
on  plains  ;  breeds  up  to  10,000  feet. 

333.  Cooper's  hawk.  Accipiter  cooperi.  Common 
resident ;  breeds  from  plains  to  9^000  feet. 

334>.  American  goshawk.  Accipiter  atricapillus. 
Resident ;  not  uncommon  ;  breeds  from  9,000  to  10,000 
feet ;  more  common  in  winter  than  summer. 

334a.  Western  goshawk.  Accipiter  atricapillus 
STRiATULUS.  Winter  visitor ;  rare,  if  not  accidental ; 
Pacific  Coast  form ;  comes  regularly  as  far  east  as 
Idaho. 

337a.  Krider's  hawk.  Buteo  borealis  kriderii.  Resi- 
dent ;  not  uncommon ;  nests  on  the  plains  ;  no  certain 
record  for  the  mountains. 

337b.  "Western  red-tail.  Buteo  borealis  calurus. 
Abundant  resident;  this  is  the  Rocky  Mountain  form, 
of  which  Krider's  hawk  is  the  eastern  analogue ;  the 
ranges  of  the  two  forms  overlap  on  the  Colorado  plains ; 
calurus  breeds  from  plains  to  12,000  feet ;  not  a  few 
winter  in  the  State. 

337d.    Harlan's  hawk.     Buteo  borealis  harlani.     Rare 


322  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

winter  visitor  ;  one  specimen  ;  natural  habitat,  Gulf  States 
and  lower  Mississippi  Valley. 

339b.  Red-bellied  hawk.  Buteo  lineatus  elegans. 
Rare  migrant ;    Pacific   coast  species. 

342.  Swainson's  hawk.  Buteo  swainsoni.  Common 
resident;  breeds  everj^where  below  11,000  feet. 

347a.  American  rough-legged  hawk.  Archibuteo  la- 
Gopus  sancti-johannis.  Somewhat  common  winter  resi- 
dent;  arrives  from  the  north  in  November  and  remains 
till  March. 

348.  Ferruginous  rough-leg.  Archibuteo  ferrugi- 
NEus.  Rather  common  resident ;  breeds  on  plains  and 
in  mountains  ;  winters  mostly  on  plains  and  along  lower 
streams. 

349.  Golden  eagle.  Aquila  chrysaetos.  Resident; 
common  in  favorable  localities  ;  breeds  from  foothills  to 
12,500  feet;  in  winter  on  plains  and  also  in  mountains, 
often  at  11,000  feet. 

352.  Bald  eagle.  HAUiEETUS  leucocephalus.  Fairly 
common  resident ;  mostly  in  mountains  in  summer ;  on 
plains  in  winter. 

355.  Prairie  falcon.  Falco  mexicanus.  Not  uncom- 
mon resident;  breeds  from  plains  to  10,000  feet;  quite 
numerous  in  more  open  portions  of  western  Colorado. 

356.  Duck  hawk.  Falco  peregrixus  anatum.  Resi- 
dent ;  not  uncommon  locally  ;  breeds  up  to  10,000  feet. 

357.  Pigeon  hawk.  Falco  columbarius.  Summer  resi- 
dent ;  not  common ;  usual  breeding  grounds  8,000  to 
9,000  feet ;    some  breed  on  the  plains. 

358.  Richardson  s  merlin.  Falco  richardsonii.  Rare 
summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  in  migration  ;  naturalists 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       .323 

not  quite  sure  that  it  breeds  in  the  State  ;  has  been  taken 
in  summer  at  an  altitude  of  11,000  feet. 

360.  American  sparrow  hawk.  Falco  sparverius. 
Abundant  resident;  the  most  common  hawk  from  the 
plains  to  11,000  feet;  some  winter  in  State;  breeds 
throughout  its  range. 

360a.  Desert  sparrow  hawk.  Falco  sparverius  deser- 
TicoLUs.  Resident,  though  rare  ;  taken  in  Middle  and 
South  Parks. 

364.  American  osprey.  Pandion  haliaetus  caroli- 
nensis.  Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  locally  ;  breeds 
as  high  as  9,000  feet ;  has  been  taken  in  fall  at  an  altitude 
of  10,500  feet. 

365.  American  barn  owl.  Strix  pratincola.  Resi- 
dent ;  quite  rare  ;  a  southern  species  rarely  coming  so  far 
north  as  Colorado. 

366.  American  long-eared  owl.  Asio  wilsonianus.  Com- 
mon resident ;  w  inters  from  plains  to  1 0,000  feet ;  breeds 
from  plains  to  11,000  feet ;    eggs  laid  early  in  April. 

367.  Short-eared  owl.  Asio  accipitrinus.  Resident, 
but  not  common ;  highest  record  9,500  feet. 

368.  Barred  owl.  Syrnium  nebulosum.  Resident; 
few  records  ;  one  breeding  pair  found  in  the  northeastern 
part  of  the  State. 

369.  Spotted  owl.  Syrnium  occidentale.  Resident; 
not  common ;  a  little  doubt  as  to  its  identity ;  but  Mr. 
Aiken  vouches  for  its  presence  in  the  State. 

371.  Richardson's  owl.  Nyctala  tengmalmi  richard- 
soNi.     Rare  winter  visitor  ;  a  northern  species. 

372.  Saw-whet  owl.  Nyctala  acadica.  Resident ;  not 
uncommon  ;  occurs  throughout  the  State  below  8,000  feet. 


324  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

373.  Screech  owl.  Magascops  asio.  Rare  resident; 
the  eastern  analogue   of  the  next. 

373e.  Rocky  Mountain  screech  owl.  Magascops 
asio  maxwelli^.  Common  resident;  found  from  plains 
and  foothills  to  about  6^,000  feet ;  rare  visitant  at  nearly 
9,000  feet. 

S73g.  Aiken's  screech  owl.  Megascops  asio  aikeni. 
Resident ;  limited  to  from  5,000  to  9,000  feet. 

374.  Flaxnmulated  screech  owl.  Megascops  flammeola. 
Rare  resident ;  rarest  owl  in  Colorado,  if  not  in  the  United 
States ;  ten  instances  of  breeding,  all  in  Colorado ;  twenty- 
three  records  in  all  for  the  State. 

375a.  "Western  horned  owl.  Bubo  virginianus  palles- 
cENs.  Common  resident ;  breeds  on  the  plains  and  in  the 
mountains. 

375b.  Arctic  horned  owl.  Bubo  virginianus  arcti- 
cus.  Winter  visitor;  not  uncommon;  breeds  in  arctic 
America. 

376.  Snow^y  owl.  Nyctea  nyctea.  Rare  winter  vis- 
itor; occurs  on  the  plains  and  in  the  lower  foothills; 
range  in  summer,  extreme  northern  portions  of  northern 
hemisphere. 

378.  Burrowing  owl.  Speotyto  cunicularia  hypog^ea. 
Resident;  abundant  locally;  breeds  on  plains  and  up  to 
9,000  feet. 

379.  Pygmy  owl.  Glaucidium  gnoma.  Resident; 
rare ;  favorite  home  in  the  mountains ;  breeds  as  high  as 
10,000  feet. 

382.  Carolina  paroquet.  Conurus  carolinensis.  For- 
merly resident ;  few  records ;  general  range,  east  and 
south ;  now  almost  exterminated. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       325 

385.  Road-runner.  Geococcyx  californianus.  Resi- 
dent ;  not  common ;  restricted  to  southern  portion  of  the 
State ;  breeds  throughout  its  range ;  rare  above  5,000 
feet,  though  one  was  found  in  the  Wet  Mountains  at  an 
altitude  of  8,000  feet. 

387.  Yellow-billed  cuckoo.  Coccyzus  americanus. 
Rare  summer  visitor,  on  the  authority  of  Major  Bendire. 

387a.  California  cuckoo.  Coccyzus  americanus  occi- 
dentalis.  Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  locally ; 
mostly  found  on  the  edge  of  the  plains,  but  occasionally 
up  to  8,000  feet  in  mountains. 

388.  Black-billed  cuckoo.  Coccyzus  erythrophthal- 
Mus.      Rare  migrant ;  only  two  records. 

390.  Belted  kingfisher.  Ceryle  alcyon.  Common 
resident ;  breeds  from  plains  to  10,000  feet ;  a  few  remain 
in  winter. 

393e.  Rocky  Mountain  hairy  woodpecker.  Dryo- 
bates  villosus  monticola.  Common  resident;  breeds 
from  plains  to  11,000  feet;  winter  range  almost  the 
same. 

394c.  Downy  w^oodpecker.  Dryobates  pubescens 
medianus.     Visitor;   rare,  if  not  accidental. 

394b.  Batchelder's  woodpecker,  Dryobates  pubescens 
HOMORus.  Common  resident ;  breeding  range  from  plains 
to  11,500  feet;  winter  range  from  plains  to  10,000  feet. 

396.  Texan  woodpecker.  Dryobates  scalaris  bairdi. 
Resident ;  rare  and  local ;  southern  range  generally. 

401b.  Alpine  three-toed  woodpecker.  Picoides  amer- 
icanus dorsalis.  Resident;  not  common;  a  mountain 
bird ;  range^  8,000  to  12,000  feet;  even  in  winter  remains 
in  the  pine  belt  at  about  10,000  feet.  ^ 


3^6  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

402.  Yellow-bellied  sapsucker.  Sphyrapicus  varius. 
Rare  migrant;  eastern  forai,  scarcely  reaching  the  base 
of  the  Rockies. 

402a.  Red-naped  sapsucker.  Sphyrapicus  varius  nu- 
CHALis.  Common  summer  resident;  breeds  from  plains 
to  12,000  feet,  but  partial  to  the  mountains.  Author  saw 
one  at  Green  Lake. 

404.  "Williamson's  sapsucker.  Sphyrapicus  thyroi- 
DEUS.  Common  summer  resident ;  breeds  from  5,000  feet 
to  upper  limits  of  the  pines ;  range  higher  in  the  southern 
part  of  the  State  than  in  the  northern. 

405a.  Northern  pileated  vroodpecker.  Ceophl(eus 
piLEATUs  ABiETicoLA.  Resident ;  very  rare  ;  only  probably 
identified. 

406.  Red-headed  w^oodpecker.  Melanerpes  erythro- 
CEPHALUS.  Common  summer  resident ;  breeds  from  plains 
to  1 0,000  feet ;  late  spring  arrival ;  same  form  in  the  East 
and  West. 

408.  Lewis's  woodpecker.  Melanerpes  torquatus. 
Common  resident;  characteristic  bird  of  the  foothills; 
sometimes  seen  as  high  as  10,000  feet  in  southern  Colo- 
rado ;  probably  does  not  breed  above  9^000  feet. 

409.  Redbellied  woodpecker.  Melanerpes  caroli- 
Nus.  Summer  visitor  ;  rare,  if  not  accidental ;  eastern  and 
southern  species,  not  occurring  regularly  west  of  central 
Kansas. 

412a.  Northern  flicker.  Colaptes  auratus  luteus. 
Rare  migrant ;  range  extends  only  to  foothills  ;  no  record 
of  its  breeding. 

413.  Red-shafted  flicker.  Colaptes  cafer.  Abundant 
summer   resident;    breeds   from   plains   to    12,000    feet; 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS        327 

almost  as  plentiful  at  its  highest  range  as  on  the  plains  ; 
early  spring  arrival ;  a  few  winter  in  the  State. 

418.  Poor- will.  Phal^noptilus  nuttallii.  Common 
summer  resident;  breeds  from  plains  to  8^000  feet;  has 
been  noted  up  to  10^000  feet. 

418a.  Frosted  poor-will.  Phal^noptilus  nuttallii 
NiTiDUs.  Rare  summer  resident ;  few  typical  nitidus  taken  ; 
a  more  southern  variety. 

420a.  Western  nighthawk.  Chordeiles  virginianus 
HENRYi.  Abundant  summer  resident ;  breeds  on  the  plains 
and  up  to  about  11,000  feet;  in  fall  ranges  up  to  12,000 
feet ;  most  common  on  plains  and  in  foothills. 

422.  Black  swift.  Cvpseloides  niger  borealis.  Sum- 
mer resident ;  abundant  locally  ;  southwestern  part  of  the 
State;  breeds  from  10,000  to  12,000  feet,  and  ranges  up 
to  13,000  feet. 

425.  "White-throated  swift.  Aeronautes  melanoleucus. 
Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  locally ;  breeds  in  inac- 
cessible rocks  from  6,000  to  12,000  feet,  if  not  higher; 
most  common  in  southern  part  of  the  State. 

429.  Black-chinned  humming-bird.  Trochilus  alexan- 
DRi.  Summer  resident ;  local ;  only  in  southwestern  part 
of  the  State,  and  below  6,000  feet. 

432.  Broad-tailed  humming-bird.  Selasphorus  platy- 
CERcus.  Common  summer  resident ;  Colorado's  most  com- 
mon hummer ;  breeds  from  foothills  to  1 1,000  feet ;  ranges 
2,000  feet  above  timber-line  in  summer. 

433.  Rufous  humming-bird.  Selasphorus  rufus.  Sum- 
mer resident ;  local ;  a  western  species,  coming  into  south- 
western Colorado,  where  it  breeds  from  7,000  to  10,000 
feet,  and  ranges  in  summer  several  thousand  feet  higher ; 
a  few  records  east  of  the  range. 


328  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

436,  Calliope  humming-bird.  Stellula  calliope.  Sum- 
mer visitor ;  rare  or  accidental ;  but  two  records^  one  near 
Breckenridge  at  an  altitude  of  9,oOO  feet ;  western  species. 

443.  Scissor-tailed  flycatcher.  Milvulus  forficatus. 
Summer  visitor ;  rare  or  accidental ;  but  one  record ; 
southern    range,    and    more    eastern. 

444.  Kingbird.  Tyrannus  tyrannus.  Common  summer 
resident ;  occurs  only  on  plains  and  in  foothills  up  to 
6,000  feet ;  same  form  as  the  eastern  kingbird. 

447.  Arkansas  kingbird.  Tyrannus  verticalis.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  more  common  in  eastern  than 
western  part  of  the  State  ;  fond  of  the  plains  and  foot- 
hills, yet  breeds  as  high  as  8,000  feet. 

448.  Cassin's  kingbird.  Tyrannus  vociferans.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  breeds  on  plains  and  up  to  9,000 
feet  in  mountains ;  occurs  throughout  the  State. 

454.  Ash-throated  flycatcher.  Myl^rchus  cinerascens. 
Rare  summer  resident ;  western  species,  coming  east  to 
western  edge  of  plains. 

455a.  Olivaceous  flycatcher.  Myiarchus  lawrencei 
olivascens.  Summer  visitor,  rare,  if  not  accidental ;  a 
southern  species  ;  taken  once  in  Colorado. 

456.  Phcebe.  Sayornis  phcebe.  Rare  summer  visitor  ; 
comes  west  to  eastern  border  of  the  State. 

457.  Say's  phoebe.  Sayornis  saya.  Common  summer 
resident ;  most  common  on  the  plains  ;  occurs  on  both 
sides  of  the  range ;  the  author  found  it  a  little  above 
Malta,  at  Glenwood,  and  in  South  Park. 

459.  Olive-sided  flycatcher.  Contopus  borealis.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  breeds  only  in  the  mountains,  from 
7,000  to  12,000  feet. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS        329 

462.  Western  -wood  pewee.  Contopus  richardsonii. 
Common  summer  resident ;  most  common  in  breeding 
season  from   7^,000  to   11,000  feet. 

464.  "Western  flycatcher.  Empidonax  difficilis.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  breeds  from  plains  to  10,000  feet, 
but  most  common  in  upper  part  of  its  range. 

466.  Traill's  flycatcher.  Empidonax  traillii.  Fairly 
common  summer  resident ;  most  common  on  the  plains, 
but  occurs  in  mountains  up  to  8,000  feet ;  breeds'through- 
out  its  Colorado  range. 

467.  Least  flycatcher.  Empidonax  minimus.  Rare 
migrant;  west  to  eastern  foothills;  probably^ breeds,  but 
no  nests  have  been  found. 

468.  Hammond's  flycatcher.  Empidonax  hammondi. 
Common  summer  resident ;  comes  east  only  to  the  western 
edge  of  the  plains  ;  breeds  as  high  as  9^000  feet. 

469.  Wright's  flycatcher.  Empidonax  wrightii.  Abun- 
dant summer  resident;  breeds  from  7,500  feet  to  10,000. 

474a.  Pallid  horned  lark.  Otocoris  alpestris  leuco- 
LMMA.  Abundant  winter  resident ;  literature  on  this  bird 
somewhat  confused  on  account,  no  doubt,  of  its  close  re- 
semblance to  the  next ;  winters  on  the  plains  abundantly, 
and  sparsely  in  the  mountains. 

474c.  Desert  horned  lark.  Otocoris  alpestris  areni- 
cola.  Abundant  resident ;  winters  on  plains  and  in 
mountains  up  to  9^000  feet ;  breeds  from  plains  to  1 3,000 
feet ;  raises  two  broods. 

475.  American  magpie.  Pica  pica  hudsonica.  Com- 
mon resident ;  breeds  commonly  on  the  plains  and  in  the 
foothills  and  lower  mountains ;  a  few  breed  as  high  as 
11,000  feet. 


330  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

478b.  Long-crested  jay.  Cyanocitta  stelleri  diade- 
MATA.  Common  resident;  seldom  strays  far  east  of  the 
foothills;  breeds  from  base  of  foothills  to  timber-line; 
winter  range  from  edge  of  plains  almost  to  1 0,000  feet. 

480.  Woodhouse's  jay.  Aphelocoma  woodhousei.  Com- 
mon resident;  most  common  along  the  base  of  foothills 
and  lower  wooded  mountains ;  sometimes  breeds  as  high 
as  8,000  feet;  in  fall  roams  up  to  9^500  in  special 
instances. 

484a.  Rocky  Mountain  jay.  Perisoreus  canadensis 
CAPiTALis.  Common  resident ;  remains  near  timber-line 
throughout   the   year. 

486.  American  raven.  Corvus  corax  sinuatus.  Res- 
ident ;  common  locally ;  breeds ;  rather  of  western  Colo- 
rado, but  visitant  among  eastern  mountains. 

487.  "White-necked  raven.  Corvus  cryptoleucus.  Rare 
resident  now ;  formerly  abundant  along  eastern  base  of 
the  front  range  and  a  hundred  miles  out  on  the  plains ; 
now  driven  out  by  advent  of  white  man. 

488.  American  crow.  Corvus  americanus.  Resident ; 
common  in  northeastern  Colorado ;  rare  in  the  rest  of  the 
State. 

491.  Clark's  nutcracker.  Nucifraga  Columbiana. 
Abundant  resident ;  a  mountain  bird  ;  breeds  from  7,000 
to  1 2,000  feet ;  sometimes  in  fall  gathers  in  "  enormous 
flocks  "  ;  at  that  season  wanders  up  to  at  least  13,000  feet ; 
most  remain  in  the  mountains  through  the  winter,  though 
a  few  descend  to  the  plains. 

492.  Pinon  jay.  Cyanocephalus  cyanocephalus.  Res- 
ident ;  abundant  locally ;  breeds  almost  exclusively  among 
the  pinon  pines;  keeps  in  small  parties  during  breeding 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS        331 

season ;  then  gathers  in  large  flocks ;  wandering  up  to 
10,000  feet. 

494'.  Bobolink.  Dolichonyx  oryzivorus.  Rare  sum- 
mer visitor. 

495.  Cowbird.  Molothrus  ater.  Common  summer 
resident ;  breeds  from  plains  to  about  8,000  feet ;  author 
saw  several  in  South  Park. 

497.  Yellow-headed  blackbird.  Xanthocephalus  xan- 
THOCEPHALUS.  Common  summer  resident ;  breeds  in  suit- 
able places  on  the  plains  and  in  mountain  parks. 

498.  Red- winged  blackbird.  Agelaius  ph(ENIceus. 
Common  summer  resident;  breeds  mostly  below  7,500 
feet,  though  occasionally  ascends  to  9^000. 

501b.  Western  meadow-lark.  Sturnella  magna  neg- 
LECTA.     Abundant  summer  resident. 

506.  Orchard  oriole.  Icterus  spurius.  Summer  vis- 
itor ;  rare,  if  not  accidental. 

507.  Baltimore  oriole.  Icterus  galbula.  Marked 
as  a  rare  summer  resident,  though  no  record  of 
nesting. 

508.  Bullock's  oriole.  Icterus  bullocki.  Abundant 
summer  resident ;  breeds  on  plains  and  in  mountain  regions 
below  10,000  feet. 

509.  Rusty  blackbird.  Scolecophagus  carolinus. 
Migrant ;  rare,  if  not  accidental ;  two  records. 

510.  Brewer's  blackbird.  Scolecophagus  cyanocepha- 
Lus.     Abundant  summer  resident. 

511b.  Bronzed  grackle.  Quiscalus  quiscula  ^eneus. 
Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  locally ;  comes  only  to 
eastern  base  of  mountains. 

514a.    Western     evening     grosbeak.       Coccothraustes 


332  BIRDS    OF    THE    ROCKIES 

vESPERTiNus  MONTANus.     Resident ;  found  every  month  of 
the  year ;   no  nests  found,  but  evidently  breeds. 

515a.  Rocky  Mountain  pine  grosbeak.  Pinicola  enu- 
CLEATOR  MONTANA.  Resident ;  not  uncommon  ;  most  com- 
mon in  late  summer  and  fall  when  most  of  them  are  just 
below  timber-line ;  stragglers  descend  to  foothills  and 
plains. 

517.  Purple  finch.  Carpodacus  purpureus.  Migrant; 
rare,  if  not  accidental ;  only  one  specimen,  and  that  a 
female. 

518.  Cassin's  purple  finch.  Carpodacus  cassini.  Com- 
mon resident ;  winters  from  plains  to  7,000  feet ;  breeds 
from  that  altitude  to  10,000  feet. 

519.  House  finch.  Carpodacus  mexicanus  frontalis. 
Abundant  resident. 

521a.  Mexican  crossbill.  Loxia  curvirostra  strick- 
landi.  Resident ;  not  uncommon  ;  has  been  seen  in  sum- 
mer at  11,000  feet;  breeds  in  mountains,  perhaps  in 
winter  like  its  eastern  antitype. 

522.  "White-winged  crossbill.  Loxia  leucoptera.  Rare 
winter  visitor  ;  one  record. 

524.  Gray-cro-wned  leucosticte.  Leucosticte  tephro- 
coTis.     Rare  winter  visitor ;  western  species. 

524a.  Hepburn's  leucosticte.  Leucosticte  tephrocotis 
LiTTORALis.     Rare  winter  visitor ;  summers  in  the  North. 

525.  Black  leucosticte.  Leucosticte  atrata.  Rare 
winter  visitor;  summer  range  unknown;  winters  in  the 
Rockies. 

526.  Brown-capped  leucosticte.  Leucosticte  austra- 
Lis.  This  little  bird  and  the  white-tailed  ptarmigan  have 
the  highest  summer  range  of  any  Colorado  birds. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       333 

528.  Redpoll.  Acanthis  linaria.  Common  winter  resi- 
dent ;  lives  from  plains  to  10/)00  feet. 

528b.  Greater  redpoll.  Acanthis  linaria  rostrata. 
Rare  or  accidental  winter  visitor;  one  record. 

529.  American  goldfinch.  Astragalinus  tristis.  Resi- 
dent ;  quite  common  in  summer ;  sometimes  reaches 
10,000  feet. 

529a.  Western  goldfinch.  Astragalinus  tristis  pal- 
LiDus.     Migrant ;  probably  common ;  added  by  Mr.  Aiken. 

530.  Arkansas  goldfinch.  Astragalinus  psaltria. 
Common  summer  resident ;  breeds  from  plains  to  over 
9,000  feet. 

530a.  Arizona  goldfinch.  Astragalinus  psaltria  Ari- 
zona.    Summer  resident ;  not  common. 

530b.  Mexican  goldfinch.  Astragalinus  psaltria  mexi- 
CANus.  Rare,  but  believed  to  be  a  summer  resident  at 
Trinidad. 

533.  Pine  siskin.  Spinus  pinus.  Common  resident ; 
breeding  range  from  plains  to  timber-line. 

000.  English  sparro-w.  Passer  domesticus.  Rapidly 
increasing  in  numbers ;  has  settled  at  points  west  of  the 
range. 

534<.  Snowflake.  Passerina  nivalis.  Rare  winter  vis- 
itor ;  one  record  west  of  the  range  ;  several  east. 

536a.  Alaskan  longspur.  Calcarius  lapponicus  alas- 
CENSis.     Common  winter  resident  ;  breeds  far  north. 

538.  Chestnut-collared  longspur..  Calcarius  ornatus. 
Rare  summer  resident;  winter  resident,  not  common; 
common  in  migration. 

539.  McCown's  longspur.  Rhyncophanes  mccownii. 
Common  winter  resident,  dwelling  on  the  plains. 


334>  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

540a.  Western  vesper  sparrow.  Pooc.«tes  gramineus 
coNFiNis.  Abundant  summer  resident ;  breeds  from  plains 
to  12,000  feet. 

542b.  "Western  savanna  sparrow.  Ammodramus  sand- 
WICHENSI9  alaudinus.  Common  summer  resident;  breeds 
from  base  of  foothills  to  almost  12,000  feet. 

54>5.  Baird's  sparrow.  Ammodramus  bairdii.  Migrant ; 
not  common ;  a  number  taken  east  of  the  range,  and  one 
west. 

546a.  Western  grasshopper  sparrow.  Ammodramus 
SAVANNARUM  PERPALLiDus.  Not  uncommoH  summcr  resi- 
dent; breeds  on  plains  and  in  lower  foothills. 

552a.  Western  lark  sparrow.  Chondestes  grammacus 
STRiGATUs.  Common  summer  resident;  breeds  on  plains 
and  in  mountain  parks  to  10,000  feet. 

553.  Harris's  sparrow^.  Zonotrichia  querula.  Rare 
migrant ;  abundant  migrant  in  Kansas. 

554.  White-crowned  sparrow.  Zonotrichia  leuco- 
PHRYS.     Abundant  summer  resident. 

554a.  Intermediate  sparrow.  Zonotrichia  leucophrys 
gambelii.  Common  migrant,  both  east  and  west  of  the 
range ;  breeds  north  of  the  United  States. 

557.  Golden-crowned  sparrow.  Zonotrichia  coronata. 
Accidental  winter  visitor  ;  Pacific  Coast  species  ;  breeds  in 
Alaska. 

558.  White-throated  sparrow.  Zonotrichia  albicollis. 
Rare  migrant ;  but  three  records. 

559a.  Western  tree  8parro"w.  Spizella  monticola 
ocHRACEA.  Common  winter  resident;  mostly  on  plains 
and  in  lower  mountains. 

560.    Chipping  sparrow.     Spizella  socialis.     Rare  sum- 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       335 

mer  resident ;  common  in  migration ;  goes  as  far  west  as 
base  of  the  mountains. 

560a.  "Western  chipping  sparro-w.  Spizella  socialis 
ARIZONA.  Abundant  summer  resident ;  breeds  from  base 
of  foothills  to  10,000  feet. 

561.  Clay-colored  sparrow.  Spizella  pallida.  Sum- 
mer resident ;  not  uncommon  ;  scattered  over  State  east  of 
mountains. 

562.  Brewer's  sparrow.  Spizella  breweri.  Summer 
resident ;  not  uncommon  ;  breeds  from  plains  to  8,000  feet. 

566.  White-winged  j unco.  Juncoaikeni.  Common  win- 
ter resident ;  on  plains  and  8,000  feet  up  in  the  mountains. 

567.  Slate-colored  junco.  Junco  hyemalis.  Winter 
resident ;  not  common  ;  not  found  above  8,000  feet. 

567b.  Shufeldt's  junco.  Junco  hyemalis  connectens. 
Abundant  winter  resident ;  most  common  in  southern  part 
of  the  State  ;  not  uncommon  elsewhere. 

567.1.  Montana  junco.  Junco  montanus.  Winter  vis- 
itor ;  not  uncommon. 

568.  Fink-sided  junco.  Junco  mearnsi.  Common 
winter  resident;  plentiful  at  base  of  foothills  in  winter; 
in  spring  ascend  to  10,000  feet;  then  leaves  the  State  for 
the  North. 

568.1.  Ridgway's  junco.  Junco  annectens.  Rare  win- 
ter visitor ;  one  record. 

569.  Gray -headed  junco.  Junco  caniceps.  Abundant 
resident;  breeds  from  7,500  to  12,000  feet;  sometimes 
rears  three  broods. 

570a.  Red-backed  junco.  Junco  ph^onotus  dorsalis. 
Rare  migrant ;  abundant  just  south  of  State. 

573a.    Desert  sparrow.     Amphispiza  bilineata   deserti- 


336  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

COLA.  Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  locally ;  found 
only  in  southwestern  part  of  the  State. 

574a.  Sage  sparro-w.  Amphispiza  belli  nevadensis. 
Abundant  summer  resident ;  common  on  sage-brush  plains 
of  western  and  southwestern  Colorado ;  ranges  as  far  east 
as  San  Luis  Park  and  north  to  Cheyenne,  Wyoming. 

581.  Song-sparrow.  Melospiza  fasciata.  Rare  mi- 
grant; found  only  at  eastern  border  of  State. 

58 lb.  Mountain  song-sparrcw.  Melospiza  fasciata 
MONTANA.  Common  summer  resident;  a  few  remain  on 
plains  in  mild  winters ;  breeds  from  plains  to  8,000  feet. 

583.  Lincoln's  sparrow.  Melospiza  lincolni.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  abundant  in  migration ;  breeds 
from  base  of  foothills  to  timber-line. 

584.  Swamp  sparrow.  Melospiza  georgiana.  Acci- 
dental summer  visitor ;  one  record. 

585c.  Slate-colored  sparrow.  Passerella  iliaca  schis- 
tacea.     Rare  summer  resident ;  only  three  records. 

588.  Arctic  towhee.  Pipilo  maculatus  arcticus.  Win- 
ter resident ;  not  uncommon ;  comes  to  base  of  Rocky 
Mountains  in  winter ;  breeds  in  the  North,  as  far  as  the 
Saskatchewan  River. 

588a.  Spurred  towhee.  Pipilo  maculatus  megalonyx. 
Common  summer  resident ;  upper  limit,  9^000  feet. 

591.  Caiion  towhee.  Pipilo  fuscus  mesoleucus.  Resi- 
dent ;  common  locally  ;  all  records  from  Arkansas  Valley ; 
rare  at  an  altitude  of  10,000  feet. 

592.  Abert's  towhee.  Pipilo  aberti.  Rare  summer 
resident ;  species  abundant  in  New  Mexico  and  Arizona. 

592.1.  Green-tailed  towhee.  Oreospiza  chlorura. 
Common  summer  resident ;  melodious  songster. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS        337 

593.  Cardinal.  Cardinalis  cardinalis.  Winter  visitor ; 
rare,  if  not  accidental ;  two  records. 

595.  Rose-breasted  grosbeak.  Zamelodia  ludoviciana. 
Accidental  summer  resident ;  one  record. 

596.  Black-headed  grosbeak.  Zamelodia  melanoceph- 
ala.  Common  summer  resident ;  breeds  from  plains  to 
8,500  feet ;  has  been  seen  at  10,000  feet. 

597a.  Western  blue  grosbeak.  Guiraca  c^rulea  la- 
zula.  Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  locally  ;  southern 
part  of  State  ;  author  saw  one  pair  at  Colorado  Springs. 

598.  Indigo  bunting.  Cyanospiza  cyanea.  Rare  sum- 
mer visitor  ;  range,  farther  east. 

599.  Lazuli  bunting.  Cyanospiza  amcena.  Abundant 
summer  resident ;  does  not  breed  far  up  in  the  mountains, 
but  has  been  taken  at  9,100  feet. 

604.  Dickcissel.  Spiza  Americana.  Rare  summer  resi- 
dent ;  only  on  plains  and  in  foothills. 

605.  Lark  bunting.  Calamospiza  melanocorys.  Abun- 
dant summer  resident ;  very  plentiful  on  the  plains  ;  some- 
times breeds  as  far  up  in  mountains  as  9,000  feet. 

607.  Louisiana  tanager.  Piranga  ludoviciana.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  in  migration  common  on  the  plains, 
but  breeds  from  6,000  to  10,000  feet. 

608.  Scarlet  tanager.  Piranga  erythromelas.  Rare 
migrant. 

6lOa.  Cooper's  tanager.  Piranga  rubra  cooperi.  Rare 
or  accidental  summer  visitor ;  abundant  in  New  Mexico 
and  Arizona ;  only  one  record  for  Colorado. 

611.    Purple  martin.     Progne  subis.     Summer  resident ; 

local ;  rare  in  eastern,  quite  common  in  western  part  of  the 

State. 

22 


338  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

612.  Cliff-swallow.  Petrochelidon  lunifrons.  Abun- 
dant summer  resident ;  breeds  everywhere  from  plains  ta 
10^000  feet ;  nests  on  cliffs  and  beneath  eaves. 

613.  Barn  swallow.  Hirundo  erythrogaster.  Com- 
mon summer  resident ;  breeds  from  plains  to  10,000  feet. 

614.  Tree  swallow.  Tachycineta  bicolor.  Summer 
resident ;  not  uncommon ;  breeds  occasionally  on  the 
plains;  more  frequently  in  mountains  up  to  10,000 
feet. 

615.  Violet-green  swallow.  Tachycineta  thalassina. 
Summer  resident ;  abundant  locally ;  a  few  breed  on 
plains  ;  more  commonly  from  6,000  to  10,500  feet. 

616.  Bank  swallow.  Clivicola  riparia.  Rare  sum- 
mer resident ;  rarest  Colorado  swallow ;  from  plains  to 
foothills. 

617.  Rough-winged  swallow.  Stelgidopteryx  serri- 
PENNis.  Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  ;  breeds  below 
7,500  feet. 

61 8.  Bohemian  waxwing.  Ampelis  garrulus.  Winter 
resident ;  not  uncommon ;  breeds  north  of  the  United 
States. 

619.  Cedar  waxwing.  Ampelis  cedrorum.  Resident ; 
not  common ;   breeds  from  plains  to  about  9^000  feet. 

621.  Northern  shrike.  Lanius  borealis.  Common  win- 
ter resident;  on  its  return  from  the  North  in  October  it 
first  appears  above  timber-line,  then  descends  to  the 
plains. 

622a.  "White-rumped  shrike.  Lanius  ludovicianus  ex- 
cubitorides.  Common  summer  resident ;  breeds  mostly 
on  the  plains;  sometimes  in  mountains  up  to  9,500 
feet. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       339 

624.  Red-eyed  vireo.  Vireo  olivaceus.  Rare  summer 
resident ;  an  eastern  species,  coming  only  to  base  of  foot- 
hills ;  still,  one  was  taken  at  11,000  feet. 

627.  "Warbling  vireo.  Vireo  gilvus.  Common  summer 
resident ;  breeds  sparingly  on  the  plains  ;  commonly  in 
mountains  up  to  10,000. 

629a.  Cassin's  vireo.  Vireo  solitarius  cassinii.  Rare 
or  accidental  summer  visitor ;  not  known  to  breed ;  a 
southwestern  species. 

629b.  Plumbeous  vireo.  Vireo  solitarius  plumbeus. 
Summer  resident ;  common  ;  breeds  in  foothills  and  moun- 
tains up  to  over  9^000  feet. 

636.  Black  and  white  warbler.  Mniotilta  varia.  Rare 
summer  visitor  ;  two  records. 

644.  Virginia's  warbler.  Helminthophila  viRGiNiiE. 
Common  summer  resident ;  western  bird,  but  breeds  along 
eastern  base  of  foothills. 

646.  Orange-crowned  warbler.  Helminthophila  cel- 
ata.  Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon ;  common  mi- 
grant ;  breeds  from  6,000  to  9,000  feet. 

646a.  Lutescent  warbler.  Helminthophila  celata  lu- 
TEscENs.  Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  :  western  form 
of  the  orange-crowned  warbler ;  ranges  to  eastern  base  of 
mountains. 

647.  Tennessee  warbler.  Helminthophila  peregrina. 
Rare  migrant ;   eastern  Colorado  to  base  of  mountains. 

648.  Parula  warbler.  Compsothlypis  Americana.  Rare 
summer  resident ;  comes  to  base  of  foothills. 

652.  Yellow  warbler.  Dendroica  .estiva.  Abundant 
summer  resident ;  breeds  up  to  8,000  feet. 

652a.    Sonora  yellow  warbler.     Dendroica  estiva  so- 


340  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

NORANA.  Summer  resident  ;  probably  common  ;  to  the 
southwest  (Estiva  shades  into  sonoi'cina. 

654.  Black-throated  blue  warbler.  Dendroica  c^ru- 
LESCENs.     Rare  migrant ;  one  record. 

Qd5.  Myrtle  "warbler.  Dendroica  coronata.  Common 
migrant ;  scarcely  known  west  of  the  range. 

Q56.  Audubon's  -warbler.  Dendroica  auduboni. 
Abundant  summer  resident;  breeds  from  7,000  to  11,000 
feet. 

657.  Magnolia  w^arbler.  Dendroica  maculosa.  Rare 
migrant ;  breeds  northward. 

658.  Cerulean  warbler.  Dendroica  rara.  Rare  mi- 
grant; one  record. 

661.  Black-poll  warbler.  Dendroica  striata.  Rare 
summer  resident ;  sometimes  common  in  migration ;  one 
breeding  record  for  the  State  —  at  Seven  Lakes  ;  altitude, 
11,000  feet. 

664.  Grace's  warbler.  Dendroica  GRAciiE.  Summer  resi- 
dent ;  common  in  extreme  southwestern  part  of  the  State. 

6Q5.  Black-throated  gray  warbler.  Dendroica  ni- 
grescens.  Summer  resident ;  not  infrequent ;  breeds  in 
pinon  hills  near  Canon  City. 

668.  Townsend's  warbler.  Dendroica  townsendi. 
Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon ;  western  species,  com- 
ing east  to  base  of  foothills  and  a  few  miles  out  on  plains ; 
breeds  from  5,500  to  8,000  feet  in  western  Colorado ;  in 
fall  it  is  found  as  high  as  10,000  feet. 

672.  Palm  warbler.  Dendroica  palmarum.  Rare  or 
accidental  migrant ;  one  specimen  seen. 

674.  Oven-bird.  Seiurus  aurocapillus.  Rare  breeder, 
on  Mr.  Aiken's  authority. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS        341 

675a.  Grinnell's  water  thrush.  Seiurus  noveboracensis 
NOTABiLis.  Rare  migrant ;  appearing  from  plains  to  8,000 
feet. 

678.  Connecticut  warbler.  Geothlypis  agilis.  Rare 
or  accidental  migrant ;  one  record  by  Mr.  Aiken. 

680.  Macgillivray's  warbler.  Geothlypis  tolmiei. 
Common  summer  resident  ;  breeds  from  base  of  foothills 
to  9,000  feet. 

681.  Maryland  yellow-throat.  Geothlypis  trichas. 
One  taken  at  Colorado  Springs  by  Mr.  Aiken. 

681a.  Western  yellow- throat.  Geothlypis  trichas 
occidentalis.  Common  summer  resident,  almost  restricted 
to  the  plains  ;  both  sides  of  the  range. 

683.  Yellow-breasted  chat.  Icteria  virens.  Acci- 
dental summer  visitor. 

683a.  Long-tailed  chat.  Icteria  virens  longicauda. 
Common  summer  resident ;  scarcely  found  in  the  moun- 
tains, but  frequent  in  the  lower  foothills  and  on  the  plains ; 
never  seen  above  8,000  feet. 

685.  "Wilson's  w^arbler.  Wilsonia  pusilla.  Abundant 
summer  resident ;  centre  of  abundance  in  breeding  season, 
11,000  feet;  known  to  breed  at  12,000  feet;  also  as  low 
as  6,000. 

685a.  Pileolated  warbler.  Wilsonia  pusilla  pileolata. 
Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  ;  Mr.  Aiken  thinks  it  as 
plentiful  as  preceding, 

686.  Canadian  warbler.  Wilsonia  canadensis.  Rare 
or  accidental  migrant ;  one  record  by  Mr.  Aiken. 

687.  American  redstart.  Setophaga  ruticilla.  Sum- 
mer resident ;  not  uncommon  in  eastern,  rare  in  western, 
Colorado  ;  breeds  below  8,000  feet. 


342  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

697.  American  pipit.  Anthus  pensilvanicus.  Com- 
mon summer  resident;  breeds  only  on  summits  of  the 
mountains. 

701.  American  dipper.  Cinclus  mexicanus.  Resi- 
dent ;  common  in  favorite  localities ;  one  seen  above 
timber-line  in  October. 

702.  Sage  thrasher.  Oroscoptes  montanus.  Summer 
resident;  breeds  from  plains  to  nearly  10,000  feet;  west- 
ern species,  coming  east  to  mountain  slopes. 

703.  Mocking-bird.  Mimus  polyglottos.  Summer  resi- 
dent ;  common  locally ;  mostly  on  plains,  but  sometimes 
reaches  8,000  feet. 

704.  Catbird.  Galeoscoptes  carolinensis.  Common 
summer  resident;  from  plains  to  8,000  feet. 

705.  Brown  thrasher.  Harporhynchus  rufus.  Not 
uncommon  as  summer  resident ;  almost  restricted  to  the 
plains. 

708.  Bendire's  thrasher.  Harporhynchus  bendirei. 
Summer  resident ;  rare  and  local ;  south  central  part  of 
State. 

715.  Rock  wren.  Salpinctes  obsoletus.  Common 
summer  resident;  breeds  from  plains  to  12,000  feet. 

71 7a.  Caflon  wren.  Catherpes  mexicanus  conspersus. 
Rare  resident ;  one  nest  recorded. 

719b.  Baird's  w^ren.  Thryomanes  bewickii  leucogaster. 
Rare  summer  resident. 

721b.  Western  house  wren.  Troglodytes  aedon  azte- 
cus.  Common  summer  resident;  from  plains  to  10,000 
feet;  raises  two  broods,  sometimes  three. 

722.  "Winter  wren.  Anorthura  hiemalis.  Rare  resi- 
dent; no  nest  found. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO   BIRDS       34>3 

725a.  Tul^  wren.  Cistothorus  paludicola.  Summer 
resident ;  not  uncommon ;  breeds  from  plains  to  8,000  feet ; 
some  remain  all  winter  in  hot-water  swamps. 

725c.  Western  marsh  wren.  Cistothorus  palustris 
PLESius.     Summer  resident ;  not  uncommon  locally. 

726b.  Rocky  Mountain  creeper.  Certhia  familiaris 
MONTANA.  Common  resident ;  in  breeding  season  con- 
fined to  the  immediate  vicinity  of  timber-line,  where  some 
remain  the  year  round. 

727.  White-breasted  nuthatch.  Sitta  carolinensis. 
Resident ;  not  common. 

727a.  Slender-billed  nuthatch.  Sitta  carolinensis  acu- 
LEATA.  Common  resident;  western  form;  commonly 
breeds  from  7,500  feet  to  timber-line. 

728.  Red-breasted  nuthatch.  Sitta  canadensis.  Not 
uncommon  resident ;  migrant  on  the  plains  ;  resident  in 
the  mountains  to  about  8,000  feet,  sometimes  10,000. 

730.  Pigmy  nuthatch.  Sitta  pygm^a.  Abundant  resi- 
dent ;  mountain  bird ;  makes  scarcely  any  migration ; 
most  common  from  7,000  to  10,000  feet. 

733a.  Gray  titmouse.  Parus  inornatus  griseus.  Resi- 
dent ;  not  common ;  southern  species,  coming  to  eastern 
foothills. 

735a.  Long-tailed  chickadee.  Parus  atricapillus  sep- 
tentrionalis.  Not  uncommon  resident ;  winters  on  plains 
and  in  foothills;  breeds  from  7,000  to  10,000  feet;  some- 
times on  plains. 

738.  Mountain  chickadee.  Parus  gambeli.  Abundant 
resident ;  nests  from  8,000  feet  to  timber-line ;  ranges  in 
the  fall  to  the  tops  of  the  loftiest  peaks. 

744.    Lead-colored   bush-tit.      Psaltriparus   plumbeus. 


344  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

Resident ;  not  common ;  western  species,  coming  to  eastern 
foothills. 

748.  Golden-cro"wned  kinglet.  Regulus  satrapa.  Rare 
summer  resident ;  rather  common  in  migration ;  breeds 
only  near  timber-line  at  about   11,000. 

749.  Ruby-crowned  kinglet.  Regulus  calendula. 
Abundant  summer  resident;  breeds  from  9,000  feet  to 
timber-line. 

751.  Blue-gray  gnatcatcher.  Polioptila  c^rulea. 
Rare  summer  resident ;  breeds  on  the  plains  and  in  the 
foothills. 

754.  Townsend's  solitaire.  Myadestes  townsendii. 
Common  resident;  breeds  from  8,000  to  12,000  feet; 
winters  in  mountains,  though  stragglers  are  sometimes 
seen  on  the  plains.  The  author  saw  a  pair  on  plains  near 
Arvada,  in  company  with  a  young,  well-fledged  bird. 

756a.  "Willow  thrush.  Hylocichla  fuscescens  salici- 
coLA.  Summer  resident ;  rather  common ;  breeds  in  foot- 
hills and  parks  up  to  about  8,000  feet. 

758a.  Olive-backed  thrush.  Hylocichla  ustulata 
swAiNSONii.      Rare  migrant. 

758c.  Alma's  thrush.  Hylocichla  ustulata  alamjs. 
Rare  summer  resident ;  in  migration  common. 

759.  Dwarf  hermit  thrush.  Hylocichla  aonalaschk^. 
Rare  migrant. 

759a.  Audubon's  hermit  thrush.  Hylocichla  aona- 
laschk^  auduboni.  Common  summer  resident ;  breeds 
from  8,000  feet  to  timber-line. 

759b.  Hermit  thrush.  Hylocichla  aonalaschk^  pal- 
LASii.  Rare  migrant ;  comes  to  the  eastern  edge  of  Colo- 
rado, just  touching  range  of  auduboni. 


CHECK-LIST   OF   COLORADO    BIRDS        345 

76  L  American  robin.  Merula  migratoria.  Summer 
resident,  but  not  common ;  some  interesting  questions 
arise  in  connection  with  intermediate  forms. 

76 la.  Western  robin.  Merula  migratoria  propinqua. 
Abundant  summer  resident ;  breeds  from  plains  to  timber- 
line. 

76oa.  Greenland  wheatear.  Saxicola  (enanthe  leuco- 
RHOA.  European  species  ;  a  straggler  taken  at  Boulder  by 
Minot. 

766.  Bluebird.  Sialia  sialis.  Rare  summer  resident ; 
west  to  base  of  Rockies. 

767a.  Chestnut-backed  bluebird.  Sialia  mexicana 
bairdi.  Summer  resident ;  not  common ;  western  form, 
coming  east  as  far  as  Pueblo. 

768.  Mountain  bluebird.  Sialia  arctica.  Abundant 
summer  resident ;  breeds  from  plains  to  timber-line ;  in 
autumn  roams  up  to  at  least  13,000  feet. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Aerial  song,  50,  51,  86,  87,  239,  268-270,  286,  287,  299-301. 
Aiken,  Charles  E.,  xiii,  50,  63,  67,  118,  134,  136,  157,  161. 
Arvada,  193,  194,  278,  289,  301. 

Blackbird,  Brewer's,  25,  98,  125,  126,  133,  139,  140,  141,  187,  215, 
230, -259,  264,  266,  268,  271-274. 

red-winged,  98,  142,  215,  271. 

yellow-headed,  141,  142. 
Bluebird,  mountain,  22,  55,  67,  99,  128,  192,  231,  237,  259. 
BoboUnk,  286,  287,  289. 
Boulder,  162,  178,  184,  186,  206,  279,  282. 
Breckenridge,  259,  293,  294,  302. 

Buena  Vista,  32,  38,  112,  127,  132-136,  139,  146,  162,  193,  267. 
Bunting,  lark,  187,  285-292. 

lazuh  (also  called  finch),  25,  121,  154-159,  178,  187,  290. 
Burro  ride,  223-256. 
Butterflies,  177,  252,  253,  266. 

Canary,  127. 

Caiion,  Arkansas  River,  43,  117. 

Cheyenne,  109,  170. 

Clear  Creek,  184,  187,  197. 

Eagle  River,  117,  125. 

Engleman's,  40. 

Grand  River,  44,  125. 

South  Platte,  206,  259,  278-282,  293. 
Catbird,  31,  36,  121,  133,  189. 
Chat,  yellow-breasted,  186. 

long-tailed,  186. 
Chatterers,  302. 

349 


350  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

Cheyenne  Mountain,  91. 

Chewink,  36. 

Chickadee,  black-capped,  66,  67,  76,  119. 

mountain,  66,  67,  73,  76,  77,  119,  212,  231,  235,  254,  262. 
Colorado  Springs,  38,  42,  50,  68,  83,  89,  90,  117, 121,  155,  157,  160, 

177,  178,  183,  187,  193,  210,  279. 
Cooke,  Wells  W.,  24,  51,  67,  76,  134,  184,  261. 
Coot,  American,  145,  146. 
Cottonwood  Lake,  112,  146,  162. 
Coues,  Dr.  EUiott,  24,  76,  302,  303. 
Cowbird,  271. 
Coyote,  99,  100. 
Crane,  146. 

Crossbill,  Mexican,  262,  263. 
Crow,  25. 

Denver,  26,  159,  177,  178,  179,  181,  183, 187,  193,  241,  263,  282,  289, 

292. 
Dickcissel,  36. 

Dipper  {see  water-ousel),  163-174,  209,  210. 
Dove,  turtle,  43,  44,  97,  122,  126,  129,  186. 
Ducks,  72,  143,  146. 
ruddy,  143-145. 

East  and  West,  birds  of,  compared,  19,  21,  23-27,  31-40,  43,  44, 
54,  55,  62,  67,  69,  76,  90-95,  106,  119,  121,  125,  129-131 
133-136,  149-159,  186,  191-193,  198,  205,  215,  266,  270,  272, 
286,  287. 

Flicker,  red-shafted,  25,  55,  73,  119,  126,  213,  231,  254,  262,  298. 

yellow-shafted,  25,  55. 
Flycatchers,  25,  151. 

Arkansas,  95-97,  99. 

crested,  95. 

least,  214. 

olive-sided,  73,  261. 

western,  209,  215,  218. 

Georgetown,  193,  197-219,  224,  238. 

Glenwood,  38,  40,  109,  120-125,  129,  158,  183,  271. 


INDEX  351 

Golden,  162,  184,  193,  296,  298. 

Goldfinch,  American,  33,  121,  202,  203,  290. 

Arkansas,  32,  33,  121,  133,  290. 
Grackle,  bronzed,  25,  140,  271,  272. 

purple,  25,  140. 
Grassfinch,  eastern,  99,  129. 

western,  92,  99,  121,  129,  186,  192. 
Graymont,  183,  230,  232. 
Gray's  Peak,  26,  178,  190, 193,  206,  224-256,  260,  261,  262,  270,  298. 

ascent  of,  241-243. 

summit,  243-251. 
Green  Lake,  208-214. 
Grosbeak,  25,  298,  299. 

black-headed,  39,  290. 

cardinal,  39,  127. 

rose-breasted,  39. 

western  blue,  39,  157. 

Halfway  House,  47,  74,  75,  76. 

Harrier,  marsh,  99. 

Herbert,  George,  59. 

Hawk,  pigeon,  214. 

House-finch,  119,  127,  133,  181-183,  217. 

Humming-bird,  25. 

broad-tailed,  73,  103-109,  112-114,  200,  209,  213,  217,  230,  260. 

ruby-throated,  106. 

rufous,  113. 

Indigo-bird,  25,  154,  155,  178. 

Jack-rabbit,  99. 

Jay,  blue,  24,  25,  26,  27,  149,  151,  153. 

long-crested,  25,  119,  133,  149-151,  154,  189,  230,  260,  279-281. 

mountain,  71,  119,  151-154,  205,  210,  233,  234,  261. 

Woodhouse's,  154. 
Junco,  slate-colored,  75. 

gray-headed,  67,  74,  75,  119,  209,  212,  231,  235,  254,  255,  259, 
261. 


352  BIRDS   OF   THE    ROCKIES 

Kelso,  Mount,  232,  233,  238,  253,  254,  262. 

KiUdeer,  205,  270. 

King-bird,  97. 

Kingfisher,  119,  282. 

Kinglet,  ruby-crowned,  64-66,  72,  119,  211,  216,  235,  254,  261. 

Lark,  desert  horned,  49,  84-89,  186,  264,  268-270. 

horned,  85. 

pallid  horned,  86. 

prairie  horned,  86. 
Leadville,  38,  126,  127,  183,  202,  271. 
Leucosticte,  brown-capped,  22,  27,  59,  60,  125,  240,  241,  244,  248, 

251,  252,  254,  262. 
Lowell,  James  Russell,  59,  289. 

Magpie,  25,  40-43,  72,  119,  122,  133,  188,  270. 
Manitou,  31,  32,  36,  38,  47,  75,  76,  79,  140,  178. 
Martin,  purple,  90. 
Meadow-lark,  eastern,  26,  90-95. 

western,  22,  26,  90-95,  133,  160, 186,  187,  192,  264,  267,  290. 
Merriam,  Dr.  C.  Hart,  113. 

Migration,  19-23,  51,  52,  63,  65,  66,  124,  277,  278. 
Mocking-bird,  98,  301,  302. 
Moraine  Lake,  61,  66-73,  146. 
Muir,  John,  172,  173. 

NiGHTHAWK,  eastern,  191. 

western,  24,  119,  129,  190,  191,  262. 
Nutcracker  (also  crow)  Clark's,  25,  67,  71,  72,  119,  122. 
Nuthatch,  pygmy,  119,  174,  279. 

white-breasted,  119. 

Ohio,  21,  65,  141,  215. 
Oriole,  25. 

Baltimore,  33-35. 

Bullock's  33-35,  97,  121,  192,  290. 

orchard,  34. 
Owl,  burrowing,  178-180. 

Ptt(EBE,  125. 

Say's,  125,  131,  270,  271. 


INDEX  353 

Pike's  Peak,  21,  26,  31,  38,  66,  71,  73,  83,  103,  104,  110,  129,  134, 
146,  152,  159,  224,  239,  250,  252,  262,  281. 

ascent  of,  47,  56-58. 

descent  of,  49-56,  58-79. 

summit,  47-49,  58,  59,  60. 
Pipit,  American,  27,  49-52,  125,  239,  244,  254,  262. 
Ptarmigan,  white-tailed,  60,  248. 
Pueblo,  117,  183. 

Raven,  25,  53,  125. 

Red  Cliff,  38,  40,  109,  117,  120,  183. 

Redstart,  184. 

Rexford,  Eben  E.,  192. 

Ridgway,  Robert,  24,  94,  136,  285,  303. 

Roberts,  Charles  G.  D.,  69. 

Robin,  eastern,  32,  73,  95,  127,  205,  206. 

western,  22,  24,  31,  32,  55,  68,  70,  72,  73,  106,  121,  127,  129, 
151,  192,  199,  200,  205-207,  210,  216,  231,  253,  270,  290. 
Royal  Gorge,  43,  117,  122. 

SANDriPER,  spotted,  51,  73,  163,  204,  271. 
Sapsucker,  red-naped,  211,  212. 

Williamson's,  75-79,  160,  161. 
Seton,  Ernest  Thompson,  194,  229,  272. 
Seven  Lakes,  55,  61,  70,  71,  72,  104,  146. 
Shrike,  white-rumped,  98. 
Silver  Plume,  183,  207,  216,  224,  226. 
Siskin,  pine,  128,  200,  202,  203,  210,  216,  231,  261. 
Skylark,  European,  87. 

Solitaire,  Townsend's,  261,  270,  290,  298-303. 
South  Park,  131,  206,  250,  259,  263-278. 
Sparrow,  25. 

Brewer's,  186. 

chipping,  western,  24,  130,  215,  216,  259. 

clay-colored,  128,  203. 

EngHsh,  127,  181-183. 

lark,  western,  24,  192. 

Lincoln's,  70,  71,  73,  99,  106,  134,  187,  200,  278. 

mountain  song,  126,  133-135,  193,  278,  290. 
23 


354>  BIRDS   OF   THE   ROCKIES 

Sparrow,  savanna,  western,  264,  266,  267,  274-276. 
song,  92,  126,  133-135,  193,  288. 

white-crowned,  21,  22,  52-55,  60,  61,  68,  72-74,  103,  126,  129, 
200,  204,  213,  214,  231,  238,  239,  244,  253,  255,  256,  259, 
261,  281,  282. 
Swallows,  131. 
barn,  279. 

cliff,  99,  118,  213,  263,  266. 
violet-green,  207,  208,  259,  279. 

Tabb,  John  B.,  192. 
Tanager,  25,  151. 

Louisiana,  39,  40,  119,  279. 

scarlet,  39,  40. 

summer,  39. 
Thompson,  Maurice,  35. 
Thrasher,  brown,  37,  302. 
Thrush,  37,  302. 

hermit,  69. 

mountain  hermit,  38,  68-70,  72,  73,  204,  210,  212,  215,  218,  219, 
231,  235,  236,  262. 

veery,  135,  136. 

willow,  135,  136,  200,  230. 

wood,  69. 
TiUie  Ann,  Mount,  260-262. 

Torrey's  Peak,  232,  237,  239,  241,  244,  245,  250,  256. 
Towhee,  36,  37. 

green-tailed,  37-39,  62,  72,  98,  126,  130,  133,  185,  191,  200, 
203,  204,  210,  218,  259,  278,  292-295. 

spurred,  36,  37,  185,  189,  191,  200,  204,  290. 

ViREO,  151. 

warbUng,  31,  73,  118,  198,  199,  209,  215,  218,  230,  262. 

Warbler,  Audubon's,  62-64,  68,  70,  126,  159,  200,  204,  208,  215, 
216,  231,  235,  237,  238,  259. 
Macgillivray's,  200,  205,  209. 
mountain,  157. 
myrtle,  6'2,  159. 


INDEX  S55 

Warbler,  pileolated,  63. 

summer,  31,  119,  133,  157,  158,  192,  290. 

Wilson's,  63,  64,  70,  72,  126,  200,  204,  213,  214,  231,  238,  244. 
Water-ousel  (see  dipper),  163-174,  185,  209,  210. 
Woodpeckers,  24,  75,  160,  211,  262. 

Batchelder's,  67,  72. 

downy,  67. 

Lewis's,  160-162,  190. 

red-headed,  162. 
Wood-pewee,  eastern,  32. 

western,  32,  119,  121,  132,  192,  261. 
Wren,  Bewick's,  297. 

Carolina,  64,  297. 

rock,  185,  186,  189,  191,  296-298. 

western  house,  73,  106,  117,  118,  217,  230,  278,  279. 

Yellow-throat,  western,  193,  290. 


PRINTED  FOR  A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.  BY 
THE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS,  JOHN  WILSON 
&    SON    (INC.)    CAMBRIDGE,    U.  S.  A. 


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Keyser,  L.S.  C6 

Birds  of  the  Rockies.   K44 


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